Far Over the Misty Mountains
by Sigrid Sigbjornsdotter
Summary: A group of elves, young Legolas among them, are sent out to Rivendell on an important mission. War is brewing, and the journey is long and perilous... The courage of the travellers will be put to a test, and Legolas will learn that when the wise and mighty are unwilling to fight, others must fight instead - even though they may not think they are strong or brave enough.
1. Chapter 1

_How long has it been, a year? Two years? This time I'll stay for longer though, because this is going to be a long-runner!_

_I wanted to write wood-elves because I love wood-elves, and I have a very specific picture of them. That was the original idea. Then plot happened, and mystery, and the War of the Ring, and family drama and adventure and lots and lots of characters demanding their own agendas... this is the result._

**I**

**An unexpected visitor**

Legolas woke by the storm.

He lay under the bear fur, curled up on the side like a badger in its den, and listened to the rain rattling on window and the shutters tearing at their latches. A howling wind shook the Mountain. The bear fur was damp - nothing is ever dry in a stone palace in autumn - and everything smelled of rain and earth and wet wood. The embers spread their dying light over the hearth rug.

This will be the last of the autumn storms, mother had said that evening, when the clouds began to gather over the forest. The next will mark the start of winter.

Legolas was too old to be afraid of storms, but he wished she had been closer.

He nestled down deeper under the bear fur and pretended he was an adventurer on the way to someplace exciting - no, he was hunted, and wounded, and his pursuers were approaching. Legolas shut his eyes and lay very still, breathing shallowly, listening for...

Footsteps.

He opened his eyes again.

Two people were walking in the tunnel outside his bedroom. One of them was Galion, easily recognizable - Legolas had known the hurried and somewhat grumpy falls of Galion's feet since he was very very small - but the other one he could not place. It was not the foot-steps of an elf, and since it could not be a dwarf in the Mountain it must be a Man - but what was a Man doing in the royal chambers, in the middle of the night, and why did not Galion tell it to wait till the morning?

"The King and Queen will be asleep, my lord, but if you wait here I will..."

"We are awake, Galion, thank you. The Queen will be down in a moment."

It was father's voice, soft and kingly as always, coming from the parlour with the hearth and the armchairs. Legolas sat up.

Strange things had been happening in Greenwood this past year, though everyone had refused to tell Legolas anything about it. Mother and father had recieved many messages sealed with strange sigils, and they had sent some of their own on swift-winged birds that would not tell anyone where they flew. There was Tuiw, never returning from Rivendell, and Laeros, who did return at last from the south, but not in the way anyone had hoped. Even Tinuhen had not been told all secrets, though he was too angry about it to admit it.

Legolas wondered if this unexpected visitor had something to do with all this. Something about the secretive way they spoke told him that it might.

"My dear friend", father said now and sounded happier than usual. "What a weather to journey in! Galion, will you light the fire - are you tired?"

"Tired of trees", another voice replied, and Legolas' eyes widened with surprise. Gandalf! Gandalf with his hat and his staff and his stories and his fireworks (the wood-elves only like the quiet ones, but he always had plenty of them too).

"Of trees?" father asked.

"Yes", Gandalf said, "of trees - and elves laughing in them! Why do they not come down when I ask? Every time I found myself lost I heard them laughing, but they would not come down and tell me where I was."

"But they are wood-elves, Mithrandir, what did you expect? Now sit down, let me take your staff. Do you want wine? It's from the south somewhere, not elven standard of course - to think Dorwinion would get so hard to come by..."

There voices died to a low murmur. Legolas heard the door to his parent's bedroom open and close on top of the stair, and mother greeting Gandalf warmly, but then he could no longer discern any words. The silence, broken only by the wind, felt secret and a bit dangerous - like a book you are not supposed to open, or a story you are too young to hear.

Legolas shifted beneath the bear fur and set his bare feet on the cold stone floor. As quiet as only a wood-elf can move he crossed the room and pulled the heavy oak-wood door open. Now he could hear their voices again.

"...what do you mean plenty of time?" Gandalf was saying. "There is hardly any time at all - I told Tuiw to say..."

"Tuiw never returned from Rivendell", mother said softly. "Whatever message you sent with him never reached us."

"Indeed? That explains many things. I sent a very important message with the boy. The council..."

Thunder crashed and drowned his last words. Legolas pushed the bedroom door closed behind him, easing it slowly past the place where it creaked; then he crept down the darkened hallway to the light of fire at the end of it. There was no light behind Tinuhen's door, and behind Merilin's all was quiet. When he saw his father's hair glowing pale in the fire-light, and Gandalf's hat drooping with rainwaiter sticking up above the back of an armchair, and mother leaning to the mantel in her nightgown, Legolas crouched down in the shadows to listen.

"So you have, after all, decided not to follow my counsel?" came Gandalf's voice. "A fine pair of stubborn fools you are! Lord Elrond..."

"Elrond!" father snorted. "What does he know of forests? What does he care?"

"He knows and cares more than you want to admit. And if not about forests, then about healing. It is just possible he could do something for Laeros..."

"He could do nothing for lady Celebrían."

Gandalf stood up with a frustrated growl and began to pace to and fro in front of the fire.

Legolas wondered what lady Celebrían had in common with Laeros. The news that she was captured had come to Greenwood a year and a half ago, and then they had heard that she was freed but sick, and then finally that she had sailed - but Legolas had never understood exactly why. About Laeros he knew very little. Hardly anyone had seen him since he returned from the south, the only one of the seven scouts that had been sent out that spring.

"If Laeros was healed", Gandalf said suddenly, jerking Legolas from his thoughts, "then perhaps he could tell us what he found in the south. The others would not have died in vain, nor would Laeros have gone through so much pain and suffering for naught. Laeros is not lady Celebrían, and before we have tried all we can to heal him..."

Now mother spoke, and she sounded almost angry. "So you want us to send Laeros to Rivendell, away from the forest he nearly died to protect? All that pain and suffering only to be sent away like a - like a lunatic we cannot take care of ourselves - "

"But if he could save that forest? If he could be healed?"

Mother turned her back on him and folded her arms across her chest.

Another lightning lit the room in harsch black and white, but the thunder was more distant this time. The wind no longer howled so loudly in the chimney, and the rain did not drum as heavily on the windows. The storm would be over come morning.

Galion returned to ask if anyone wanted something.

"Find a draught of Reason for your king and queen", said Gandalf half seriously. "Or maybe an antidote for stubbornness."

"And a whet stone for Mithrandir", mother said. "His tongue is not as sharp as it once was."

"Bashing a sword against a shield has a tendency of making it blunt, my dear Queen. My tongue has been battling your thick-headedness for far too long."

"Then keep quiet", mother said.

"I will leave you to your negotiations", Galion said with a certain edge to his words. There was a long silence after he left.

Then father sighed. "If I believed lord Elrond could heal Laeros I would send him to Rivendell - but I doubt anything can be done. He is too far gone. For his sake, perhaps it would be better if he never had to remember what he has seen. For the rest of us... you know what I think."

"I do, old friend", Gandalf said with sudden pity in his voice. "But I do not believe you. Saruman..."

"Saruman! Saruman is wise, but he has not seen what I have seen, he would not know..." Father trailed off. The silence that fell was so heavy the fire-light seemed diminished.

Legolas didn't want to hear anything more. He knew what they were talking about, even though they never said it out loud. He had heard enough of rumours and whispers this fall to know what was always on the grown elves' minds. But the wind had stilled and it was too quiet for him to sneak back to his room.

"I am afraid, Mithrandir", father said slowly. He turned his head and the fire-light fell on his face, and suddenly he did look afraid - old and scared and sad, like one who has seen too many winters and too few summers. "I fear for Greenwood. I fear for my people. I fear for Middle Earth - you know why. And though it shames me, I fear for myself."

"There is not shame in fear, Thranduil, as long as you do not cower from it."

"But I do cower, and I will keep cowering for as long as reason tells me to do it. You see, I - we have not the strength or the numbers to fight. All we can do is draw back in safety here and _endure_. And endure we will. That is my plan, Mithrandir. To lock the doors and bar the windows until the storm is over. And in that plan there is no place for your secret councils."

"Does the Queen agree with this plan?" Gandalf asked, looking at mother.

Mother shifted uncomfortably. She was not one who endured; she was one who fought. But now she nodded. "For the time being."

There was a last blast of wind trembling in the windows, and they all looked out as if expecting the Mountain to fall. In the wind, Legolas imagined he felt something more - a being that watching them from the darkness. He knew what it was. It was here in the room too; in the flickers of fire-light on the walls, in every word the adults spoke and in every secret they did not say aloud.

It was the Shadow, the sickness that spread over Greenwood, the darkness that came from the south. Since summer ended the rumours had been going - faint at first, later growing - that the Shadow was spreading again, that it was nearing the Forest Road. Legolas had felt it. He had felt it in the earth, heard it in the haunted voices the wind brought from the border-trees.

He did not want to hear more. He wanted to pretend the Shadow was not there. Very slowly he began to creep back to his room.

"And what about the elves by the Forest Road?" Gandalf asked. "I talked to a few of them on my way here, though they were very shy. What will they do, while you _endure_ in here?"

"They will do what they chose to do", father said. "They chose to stay on the border of the Shadow, and we cannot persuade them to - " He cut himself off. Legolas could no longer see him, but he heard the deep sigh of exasperation.

"Legolas! Is that you?"

Like a deer startled by a snapped twig, Legolas froze. How could father _always_ know he was there?

"Come here. You need not hide anymore."

Legolas stumbled to his feet. He considered staying where he was and being so quiet they would eventually think they had imagined it, but mother was not that easily fooled. Wrapping his arms around him, Legolas walked to the edge of the fire-light and stood there, hesitating. Mother and father and Gandalf were all looking at him.

Before anyone could say anything, Gandalf began to laugh.

"Legolas, my dear boy! Have your mother taught you nothing about eavesdropping?"

"She has, but I need to practise more." Seeing as the wizard was not angry, Legolas beamed at him. "Gandalf, I've missed you! Where have you been all this time?"

"Practise?" father asked and turned to mother. She laughed and shook her head.

"Ive been to the moon and back and everywhere in between", Gandalf said - a typical wizard-answer. "I will tell you the interesting parts, but not now. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I was", Legolas said, "but the storm woke me." He bit his lip. "You're not angry, are you?"

"Of course not! That storm would have woken a dragon. Come here, let me look at you. I believe you have grown!"

Legolas grinned and left the hallway so he could hug the wizard. Mother did not look angry either, but with father it was hard to tell, because he rarely showed what he thought. He stood beside mother with his hands clasped behind his back and did not seem to know what to say.

"And you look strong", Gandalf said, letting Legolas go so he could look at him. "Have you been training - on other things than eavesdropping?"

Legolas nodded eagerly. "I'm training with the archers."

"Indeed?"

"I can show you if you want!"

"I'd love to, my child", Gandalf said. "But tomorrow. The storm is going away, and an elf your age needs sleep to grow."

"And you have important things to talk about."

"And we have important things to talk about", Gandalf agreed. "There's no fooling you."

Legolas shook his head.

"But there's not more fooling us either", mother said, "and this time you won't eavesdrop, promise?"

Legolas supposed he would never know more about Tuiw or Laeros or mysterious councils, but he was not sure he wanted to either. "I promise."

"Sleep well", Gandalf said. Father smiled but said nothing - but then he rarely did.

Back in his room, Legolas climbed onto the bed but he did not lay down to sleep. He sat under the bear fur and looked at the moon and stars that Tinuhen had painted on the window shutters - long ago, when Legolas was little and Tinuhen still nice to him - and he felt as if he had stumbled into a story that was many times bigger than he was.

He wondered if it was going to go on without him, or if there was a chance he might be a part of it. He was not sure he wanted to be part of it. If the Shadow was in it, it must be a scary story, and Legolas was not very brave.

Eventually he did fall asleep, and he had a very strange dream. First there was father's silver crown, but it was dented and black with soot, and the hands lifting it up from the snowy ground were too small to be father's. Then he dreamt of a cave, a very dark cave, but he could see the opening - and just inside it someone lay huddling under a cloak, but Legolas could not tell who it was.

Last he dreamt of a door at the end of a dark hallway. Light fell on the threshold, and he could see people moving behind it, but their faces were unclear. Legolas had a strange feeling he had come too far; but from what or to what, he could not tell.

When he woke on the morrow, he had all but forgotten the dream.

* * *

The plan is to update once a week, but although the draft is finished I'm still editing. Any input to characters, pacing and such is greatly appreciated.  
English isn't my native language and in the end I didn't have the patience to find a beta, so please bear with me!

Thank you for reading u w u


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

**The Kingdom at the Heart of the Forest**

When Legolas woke on the morrow, the storm was over.

He slipped out from under the bear fur and pushed open the painted shutters. A grey, dripping dawn was growing out of the dark; a faint wind pulled at the remnants of storm clouds, and Greenwood greeted the morning, shaking leaves and stretching roots and branches. Foxes and badgers crawled out their dens, does and stags shook water from their fur and the owls returned to their trees.

It would be some time still before the sun was up, and the Mountain would be asleep a while longer. Legolas dressed hastily in loose deerskin trousers and a woollen tunic, tucked a dagger in his belt, but did not bother to take any shoes; they'd only get wet. He left the room quietly. The hallway was dark, but from the parlour came a faint light. Father sat in the chair by the window with his arms folded on the desk, and his head resting on his arms. The candle beside him had almost burnt down.

Legolas hesitated.

It was not the first time father fell asleep like that. He often worked until far into the night, or went up early because he could not sleep. Sometimes he stood by the southern window and looked out with his hands clasped behind his back, and it was not Greenwood he saw; it could not be, for it did not make him happy.

Sometimes Legolas wondered if he should hug him. They were all sad but it seemed to him that no one ever comforted the Elvenking.

But he had never dared to yet, and he did not dare to this time either.

The halls of the wood-elves deep in the mountain were still asleep, dark and quiet and very still. At some places there were arrow-slits where dawn peered in; at others Legolas had to feel his way with a hand to the wall. He pretended he was an adventurer, looking for treasures deep in a cave. He kept on hand on the belt knife (it was a sword) and thought of how he would fight the dragon, when he found it. The dragon could be anywhere. Once he heard the clicking of claws against the stone floor and quickly hid in a crossing tunnel, thinking for a second it truly was a dragon, but it was only Merilin's fox returning from a nightly hunt in the cellars.

"Good morning to you", Legolas whispered and reached down to scratch the fox beneath the furry chin. "I see you've had luck tonight."

The fox smiled contently and nuzzled his hand with the dead rat dangling from her gap. Even with her blind left eye she was an excellent rat hunter, as swift and precise as Merilin herself. It was Merilin who found her injured and took her in, and now the fox followed her like a lapdog.

They went their own way, fox and elf. Legolas went quietly down the narrow stair and through the broad tunnel with its painted roof that led to the Hall of Trees.

Even here there was no one. In the evenings, and far into the night, the Hall of Trees was full of elves, sitting on the long rough-hewn oak benches around the center hearth, talking and laughing and telling stories. Now that autumn was here the elves that lived in the forest came to the palace for shelter (expect those living by the Forest Road; they refused to move) and the Hall of Trees was the place to catch up with old friends. The elves sat their fletching arrows and greasing boots while they shared stories about the days' hunt or battles of old.

But now there was only the dogs sleeping on the straw, and a cat half awake on the still warm hearth-stones, watching with one eye a sparrow picking for bread crumbs between the rough boards of the table. Legolas looked up as he walked between the broad pillars, all shaped into trees, but it was too dark too make out the mighty stone branches that held up the roof above his head.

He pushed the heavy oak wood doors open and light fell on the doorstep. In came dawn, cold-fingered and frost-haired, pulling at his clothes; and Legolas laughed and leapt down the steps to the courtyard, jumping over the puddle at their feet without thinking - the courtyard sloped down to that point, and the puddle had been there since the end of september. The wind caught his hair and made leaves whirl down the mountainside.

While the doors to the Hall of Trees were closed to ward off cold winds, the magic stone doors in the cliff that surrounded the courtyard, the very entrance to the wood-elves' halls, were always open. The bridge guards greeted him merrily as he walked between them, beneath the intimidating arch of the Doors.

"I should've known it was you I heard laughing", Hethulin said and leaned casually on her spear. "My prince is up early."

"I was awake", Legolas said, "so why should I stay inside?"

She smiled. "True enough."

Legolas climbed down the steep bank at the side of the bridge, knelt on a slanting rock by the water and cupped his hands to drink. It was so cold it hurt to swallow, and he made a face and shuddered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he laughed a little and looked up at Greenwood, dark and full of shadows in the twilight. Upstreams the water-wheel creaked and splashed in the stillness.

Hethulin lent him a hand when he climbed back onto the bridge again.

"Well", she said, "you're not escaping any lessons, are you? I won't lie to your brother again, if he asks."

"I'm not", Legolas said, not bothering to try to remember if he was.

"Good. And Legolas..." Hethulin laid a hand on his arm and suddenly looked very grave. "Do you have your belt-knife?"

"Well, yes, but - "

"Don't go too far, especially not south."

Confused and a little bit uneasy, Legolas nodded. Hethulin smiled like he would think no further of it and let him go. Legolas shook the queasiness off. In Greenwood he would never be afraid.

"See you later then", he said, and the guards nodded and smiled. Then he hurried over the stone bridge across the little stream, light feet making barely a sound.

* * *

Thranduil cracked one eye open and looked after his son as he left. He had wanted to say something, but not known what.

There was something he must say, but how would he break such news, and to a child he barely knew? Gwiwileth could do it, he thought, but it did not feel right. Legolas could not hear it only from his mother. Thranduil had to be there. He had to be a father.

He left the chair to blow life in the embers on the hearth. His neck was aching, and his back, and sleeping with his head resting on his arm had left faint red lines of embroidery imprinted on his cheek. The flames woke unwillingly. Thranduil could not blame them. Autumn seeped in through every crack and fissure and made the Mountain as hazy as the forest; no one woke easily on such a day.

Expect for Legolas. The child woke early every day (unless he had morning lessons, and on bathing days) and Thranduil could only admire his his spirit. Had he been as energic when he was young? It was so long ago.

And he had never been much like Legolas in anything but looks. Gwiwileth said that he was - you have the same spirit, she said, only in Legolas it is quieter - but if so Thranduil had never come close enough to the child to see it. They hardly ever spoke, and when they did, Thranduil did not know what to say.

With the other two it had been so much simpler. Tinuhen would talk whether one listened or not, and though Thranduil could not agree with his love for noldor, there were some points on politics and culture they could both discuss with passion. Merilin was easy to talk to; sweet and gentle, always listening, always knowing how to keep a conversation light-hearted and interesting; a true lady she was, though she had a little of her mother's silvaness in her too.

But Legolas? Thranduil never knew how to approach him, and he did not have the patience of old to try.

"Thranduil, my love! Have you not slept at all?"

Thranduil turned, conciously smoothing down his robe. "I have, actually, though I regret it now. That chair is horribly uncomfortable to sleep in."

"It is not mean to be slept in", the Elvenqueen replied and slipped into his arms. She was still in her night-gown, that old one with pearls that Celebrían had made her long ago. It had lost most of its original green, yet Gwiwileth would not part from it.

"I was trying to write that letter", Thranduil said. "I couldn't quite figure out how to begin."

"And have you now?"

"I have written _my dear lady_."

"Not bad for a night's work." Gwiwileth walked over to the table by the window, gathering her hair into a loose braid it while she looked down on the heaps of letter that Thranduil had started, given up and thrown aside. She raised an eyebrow (delicately arched but messy; the Queen's eyebrows had a will of their own and refused to be tamed) and turned back to him."You have been wasting parchment, my dear - and the expensive sort too."

"I cannot write a letter to lady Galadriel on -"

"By the cloak of Elu Thingol - Merilin! _Merilin!_ Your darned fox is - let go of that you beast!"

"Oh no", Gwiwileth sighed as Tinuhen burst through his door. His hair was unbraided, his night-shirt open, and Merilin's fox dangled from his hand by the scruff of her neck; a torn piece of parchment hung between her teeth, written full of beautiful letters in black and blue ink.

And now Merilin threw her own door open, yelled at Tinuhen for yelling at her, tore the fox from him and pressed it lovingly to her chest. Knowing her, Thranduil did not think it unlikely.

"May the Valar have mercy", he said, as Merilin took the parchment from her fox and tossed it aside. "The day has hardly begun and you are already fighting. Look, Tinuhen, it's almost whole..."

Tinuhen was boiling. "Almost whole? _Almost whole_, father? It's not _in the book!_ The book will never be whole! Merilin, I've told you a thousand times to keep that fox on a leash - "

"And I've told you a thousand times not to have your window open!"

"I was enjoying the sound of the rain!" Tinuhen sputtered. There was a ledge between his and Merilin's windows, and sometimes the fox slipped into Tinuhen's room to look for interesting toys. "Perhaps you were too busy to braid your hair to notice, but it had a particularly fair sound this night - a poet's rain, as Daeron would have put it - and I am currently working on an essay about the different sounds of rain - "

"Will you shut up about your essays! You're just afraid you'll miss it when some maiden plays her lute beneath your window at night but Yavanna'll walk these woods before that happens!"

"Oh you insolent, unsophisticated - "

"Orc-spawn!"

"Here now!" Gwiwileth snapped. "The way you two quarrell one might think you were dwarves! Tinuhen, if you want your window open, put something up so the fox cannot enter. And Merilin, I don't ever want to hear you use such language again." She looked from sister to brother sternly, until they lowered their gazes to the floor. "I suggest you go back to your rooms until you can act like civilized people. Breakfast is not due yet."

The children muttered their apoligies and returned to their rooms, Tinuhen with the parchement and Merilin with the fox clutched tightly to her chest. Thranduil rubbed his temples. There had been a time when his eldest were as close as twins, and hardly an angry word was spoke between them.

"They will miss each other", Gwiwileth said. "A few weeks when they cannot trample on each other's nerves, and they may remember their good sides better than their bad."

"Unless Merilin spends those weeks seething over injustice", Thranduil said. He looked out the window, where light was spreading slowly behind the clouds, and suddenly yearned to be outside. "I think it is time Legolas learns. I fear he will not come off lightly if his brother and sister start fighting about this."

* * *

Legolas liked the Mountain Road because it felt like the forest, soft and earthy to bare feet (or wet and muddy, like now), but the elves rarely used it. It was for wagons and horses, and perhaps for noldor - they couldn't walk in a forest, for they'd stumble over their own importance, or so the wood-elves said. So when Legolas had come only a little distance from the forest-edge, he left it to follow his own paths, all secret and invisible.

The forest closed around him in a damp, moss-scented embrace. It grew so dense he could see nothing more than bearded branches and wrinkled hems, dark green and grey dappled with the red of autumn. The branches formed a green roof that the faint morning light could not penetrate, and so the forest was still filled with night, but it had a sort of light of its own - a dim green shimmer that always seemed to come from somewhere just out of your sight.

A hundred wind-breathed tree-voices followed him as the paths led up into the trees and down again; down shadowed glens with streams at the bottom, over clearings where misty spider-webs shimmered on the heather, and past dark forest pools where leaves floated on the surface and where, if you looked into them, you saw nothing of the bottom; only yourself, and the swaying trees above your head. Some of the trees had stood since the beginning of this Age, and some even longer than that. Their roots went deep into the dark earth, and their branches wove knotty and mossy towards the sky. Some boughs hung so low that even though Legolas was short for his age they stroke his cheeks with cold wet leaves and left silvery pearls in his hair.

_Good morning, young one_, old-oak-below-the-hill said when he passed.

"Good morning", Legolas said, for you should always be polite to oaks; they have long memories and mighty roots. "How did you fare the storm?"

_A little north-wind cannot break a single twig from me_, old-oak said.

It was very still. The only sounds were the water dripping softly into moss, and the fluttering of birds between the branches. Legolas followed a stream until he came to a narrow board bridge pushed deep in the mud. On the other side was the clearing where his family lived in the summers. Legolas crossed the bridge to look at it.

When he was little, the _telain_ and the bridges connecting them had been his whole world; between them he had run and leapt as safe as a squirrell in the trees. They were nothing but wooden platforms, weather-worn and simple, and yet they were home. The world down on the ground he must have known, for in the tree-hall where he was born they had lived mostly on the ground, but he remembered nothing of it. After all, he had been very small when they left the tree-hall; small enough to have forgotten why they left. But he remembered the other places, the other telain from which they had moved, and moved, and moved again; and he remembered when they had come here, and that he had thought they were finally safe and would stay for ever. He remembered learning about the Mountain that the dwarves were digging out. One winter they had moved into it, a new world of stone and tunnels, and walls and closed doors. Now they only lived here in high summer.

Legolas looked up. All the telain had survived the storm, and looked strong and sturdy and welcoming still, even with their ladders rolled up and secured and no way up but through the branches. But there should be elves on them, and a fire on the ground. Merilin and mother should be there. The past summer both Tinuhen and father had often been in the Mountain, but mother and Merilin had always been there.

He went back to the stream and followed it a little further west. Deep down at the bottom of a hollow, shadowed by the trees on either side, the stream ran swift and dark. At one place it came tumbling down a cliff and splashed into a pool, blank as a mirror between great boulders. Willow-by-the-water stood guard there. She was ancient and crooked, her roots wriggling pale as worms over the stones, and Legolas sank down beside her to drink.

_You are far from the mountain, little one_, willow said, her voice the softest whisper. _I am glad to see you again._

"I wanted to see if everything was all right. With you. And thetelain."

_And was it?_

"It was."

Legolas sat down on the wet stone and wrapped his arms around his knees. He wanted to tell willow about what he had heard that night, but he was not sure she would understand.

"Do you know how far away Rivendell is?" he asked instead.

_The elves from there have different voices,_ she replied uncertainly. _They feel different when they walk._

"It's across the mountains."

Willow smiled; Legolas could feel it through the soil beneath his feet. Maybe she did not know what mountains were. It was hard to tell with trees.

"Tinuhen says that if the Rivendell elves were swans, I'd be a sparrow, because I am stupid and unsophisticated."

_But you are not stupid._

"Unsophisticated then?

Willow shifted her branches. _What is that?_

"I don't know. Tinuhen says it. About me."

_Perhaps it means unbearable, as in playing too many pranks on others?_

Legolas grinned. "That would be true."

_Or_, willow said, _it means that someone is looking for you; for that, I believe, would also be true. Look up, little one!_

Legolas looked up, confused - and there stood his father on the opposite bank, straight and tall in a long silk robe. Legolas jumped and almost fell backwards, but he caught himself on his hands in the last minute. He could have sworn father had not been there a second ago!

But there he was, calm and proud as always, with his hands clasped at his back, and the silver embroidery of his robe imprinted on his cheek. He wore his crown, the heavy silver piece his father had brought from Doriath. It glinted faintly under the the cloud-veiled sun.

Legolas hastily climbed to his feet.

"Good morning, father."

"Good morning, Legolas", father said. He walked down the brink as if it was a neatly trimmed lawn (Legolas had never seen a neatly trimmed lawn, but he imagined it was the kind of thing his father would have liked to walk down) and crossed the stream easily with his long legs, as if the stepping stones were a smooth stone floor. Legolas bowed his head and did not know what to do with his hands. Father came to stand before him, some feet down the slope, so that their eyes were almost at level.

"The trees told me where to find you", father said and smiled a little. "Stealthy as a hunting fox, aren't you? I thought I would never catch up. Have you had breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry." It was not quite true, but Legolas was too busy thinking about _stealthy as a fox_ to think about that.

"Well then." Father smiled, then as usual he seemed unsure of how to go on. He reached for Legolas hand. "Come, sit here with me. There is something I need to talk to you about."

They sat down on the bank, Legolas absently digging his toes into the damp earth, his father carefully smooting out his robe. Thin metal threads had been woven into the fabric in intricate patterns, like the veins of a leaf. Father followed a vein with his long, slender fingers.

"Mith... Gandalf will ride away soon", father said after a while. "He has many errands to attend out in the world. He came here to tell your mother and I something very important. As you know, Legolas, Greenwood... Greenwood is not like it used to."

Legolas shuddered. "At some places, you mean."

"Yes, at some places. And your mother and I, and Radagast and Gandalf, have used all our knowledge and wisdom to try and do something about it, but everything we have tried so far has failed. This... sickness, this Shadow. It is very strong."

"Yes."

"Have you felt that?"

"It's... sometimes it is like it's watching. Like it's laughing."

Father nodded, and his gaze became distant as if it was no longer the trees on the riverbank he saw. "You are very much a wood-elf, like your mother. Greenwood is mourning, she says, and it is angry. We think that which is behind the Shadow... what is causing it... it is something not only tied to Greenwood. One might say there is a net over all of Middle Earth, and at its core, in the Shadow, is the spider that weaves the net."

Legolas looked up at him. Father's eyes were very dark, like forest pools. "In Dol Guldur?"

Father plucked with the pearls sewn onto his sleeve. "Yes. In Dol Guldur. There is a sorcerer i in that dark place, a great magician, and he... well, he..."

Legolas pulled his knees up to his chest. Willow whispered sadly over their heads.

"Gandlaf fears this sorcerer", father said. "As do I, in a way that Gandalf do not understand. He thinks that... well... there are some mighty and important people who should be told about the sorcerer, and there is a meeting of sorts where he wants your mother and I to tell them about this. You heard us talk about it, I think. That meeting is in Rivendell."

Legolas watched him, waiting for an explanation.

Father tilted his head to the side. "Gwiwileth and I have no desire to travel to Rivendell, but your brother has. He has been there when he was young, to learn the ways of the Rivendell elves. They are very learned, those elves, arrogant as they may seem, and it was good for Tinuhen to be taught in manners and formalities and the politics of Middle Earth, such things that the noldor knows very well. Merilin went there too, when she was in your age." Faher hesitated, then went on: "Princes and princesses must know a lot of things. They must know the ways of other people than those they represent; it is their responsibility to understand the world outside their homes."

There was something strange in his voice and Legolas was certain he did not want to hear anything more.

"So, Legolas... since you are not a small child anymore, and the Misty Mountains are now safer than they have been for many years, your mother and I have decided that you will accompany Tinuhen to Rivendell."

Legolas stared at him. "I don't want to."

"There is nothing to be afraid of, you will - "

"I don't _want_ to!" Legolas said and stood up. "I don't want to leave Greenwood! I know nothing of Rivendell, expect that the noldor are snobbish and arrogant and nobody likes them but Tinuhen and I don't want to be like Tinuhen!"

"Here, now", father said and tried to get Legolas to sit down again, "listen to me first. No one wants you to become like the noldor, or to be honest, like Tinuhen. But you need to learn more about the world. Goodness, Legolas, your mother and I have completely neglected to teach you how to be a prince, and..."

"But I can learn to be a prince. I can just do what Tinuhen and Merilin do. Look, I don't have to be unsophi.. unsophisticate. Sophisticat_ed_."

Father smiled a bit nervously. "Are you not excited at all to leave Greenwood? To see Anduin, the Misty Mountains? It will be a real adventure, Legolas, I promise."

"I don't like adventures."

"Now that's not true."

Legolas bit his lip. "I've never been further than Lake-town. I don't want to go away. I don't know anything about anything else than Greenwood.

"Child", father said and took Legolas' hands in his. When he sat down, and Legolas stood up, he was still only a head taller. "I know that you must feel frightened. You love Greenwood, and you understand it; it speaks to you like the world outside never will. You are just like your mother - silvan to your finger-tips. Are you not?"

"I don't know."

"I think you are." Father smiled. "All but your looks you got from Gwiwileth, and if you're unlucky you'll even have her height. Yet you have sindar blood in your veins. My blood, my father's blood, the blood of Doriath. You have heard of the wonders of Doriath. They were a very magnificient people."

Legolas watched him uncertainly, wondering what that long-lost kingdom had to do with anything.

"The elves of Doriath were learned", father said. "I remember the libraries, known all over Beleriand, and the songs and tales passed down mouth to ear for thousands of years. They had so much knowledge that was then lost. They knew all about history and the lands of Middle Earth, but also about book-binding and parchment-making and cloth-dying and leather-making; they were learned in all sort of things, you see, but what about the silvan elves? What do they know?" He looked at Legolas. "What do the silvan elves know?"

The answer was simple. "They know the forest."

"And they know it well, roots to tree-tops - and so do you, or you will, when you are a little older. But you are a prince. You must know more."

"I can learn it here", Legolas said. "We've got books, and I can read."

"Not as many books as one might wish. And Legolas - do you know why the Doriath elves knew so much?"

"Because they had more books than us?"

Father laughed, a small kingly chuckle that was hastily stifled, but it was a laugh all the same. "Partly that", he said, "but you cannot learn all things from reading. Words read are only words, after all. The elves of Doriath travelled, Legolas, far and wide. That it why they knew so much."

Legolas looked at his bare feet in the soil, surrounded by tendrils of water, then at father in his splendid silk robe. Truly he would be a sparrow among swans, and though he liked sparrows, he did not want to be one.

"I'm a prince of Greenwood, not of the whole Middle-Earth."

"So you are", father said patiently, "but wish as we may, Greenwood is not alone in the world. We get wares from Lake-town..."

"But I've been to Lake-town already!"

"The silk", father said, "and the wine and the spices, have travelled to Lake-town from the end of the world. The goblin bands that come into the forest come with plunder from the west; and the rangers of the north sometimes use our roads. I once fought side by side with noldor and Men of the south. Greenwood is in Middle-earth, and Middle-eath will be in Greenwood wether we want it or not. We need to know it, if we are to know Greenwood. But I would not let my youngest son travel to Gondor, so Rivendell will have to do."

"How far is Gondor?"

"Further than you will ever go, if I have any say in the matter. The road there is harsch and unforgiving. The road back..." He shuddered, and suddenly fell silent. Father had went to the south to fight in the War once, long before Legolas was born, and only a few of the elves who left had come back with him home.

Legolas bit his lip again.

"So", he said, "I _have_ to go to Rivendell."

"Your mother and I have decided that you will."

"When?"

Father's smile became apologizing, in a way. "The reason Gandalf came so unexpectedly was that he was in a hurry to deliver his message. The meeting Tinuhen will attend would have been in spring, but the date has been changed, and the message that Gandalf sent to tell us about that never arrived. The meeting will be this winter, and to cross the Misty Mountains before the snow shuts the passes you must leave as soon as possible. A few days of preparation is all we can afford."

Princes don't cry, Legolas told himself. Princes aren't scared.

"But", father said, "perhaps you shall find that Middle-earth is not so bad, once you are there."

"There will never be a place I'd rather be than Greenwood."

"Says the bear cub, before it's left the lair and seen the sun." Father smiled, then stood up. "You need to eat a proper breakfast, if you ever want to grow taller than a dwarf. Come walk home with me, if you can stand to stay on the ground - I am not dressed for climbing trees."

They walked back in silence, but father took Legolas' hand in his, and he did not let go until they saw the bridge behind the opening of the trees.

* * *

There are two changes of canon in this chapter. Firstly I've added a courtyard behind the magical doors, because I figured the elves need somewhere to keep horses, livestock and a smithy. The courtyard is surrounded by the mountain on all sides but is open to the sky, in case that was not clear enough in the text, and behind this is the cave itself. Secondly, Thranduil has a crown made of silver instead of the leaf-crown he wears in The Hobbit. I have a feeling someone might want to point this out, so before you do: I'm aware of the changes and they're there for a reason :)

Thank you all for reading and commenting!


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

**Leaving Greenwood**

The scullery maids had lit a fire at the edge of one of the massive stoves and sat on stools around it, cradling cups of barley in their hands. In day-time the kitchen was brightly lit by many fires, hot and noisy and never empty; now shadows leapt from the low ceiling, and the dark shape of the great bread-stove across the room looked like a sleeping dragon.

"Are you sure you don't want anything, Legolas?" one of the maids asked. "We could find you something better if you don't want our barley."

Legolas sat on top of the stove and picked leaves and pine needles from a basket of sloe-berries. "I'll eat later anyway."

"You're nervous, dear. It'll feel better if you eat a bit."

Legolas looked into the basket and did not answer. Three frost-nights they'd had, and the sloes were ripe and juicy. He thought of sloe pies and sloe wine and wondered if there would be anything left when he came back. But it didn't matter much for either way he would miss sleigh-riding down the mountainssides and snow-ball wars on the courtyard and even the songs and games at Midwinter. He could not see why his parents had to be so cruel. Merilin wanted to go, so why did they not send her?

"I know", Cuguiel said. She was the youngest scullery maid, two years younger than Legolas, and they had always been friends. "There's only a little left of that rosemary bread. Do you want some?"

Legolas glanced at her and smiled faintly. He wasn't hungry even for rosemary bread, but he needed something else to think of than the journey. "I do."

Cuguiel took a stick from the fire and lit a tallow candle with it. Legolas followed her when she slipped from the stool and crossed the vast kitchen to the storerooms. When he went down to the kitchen it had still been dark outside. By every inch the Arien the sun-maia climbed the eastern sky, the departure would come closer.

Cuguiel pushed open a heavy door and climbed onto a barrel full of winter apples, while Legolas held the candle as high as he he could.

"They're up there but I can't reach them."

"Let me." Legolas was short for his age, but Cuguiel was even shorter.

"They're in that blue basket there."

"I have them."

Balancing on toe with one knee on a lower shelf, Legolas took down the basket and found what was left of the roseary bread. It still smelled fresh.

By the fire, the other maids suddenly gasped, and then they began to talk in excited voices.

"Legolas!" one of the called. "Your lady mother is here! Sit down, Your Grace, you can sit here, it's all right..."

"No, no, Síla, I wouldn't take your seat. I'm only looking for my son."

Cuguiel hastily swept the bread in a linen cloth. "Here. You can have it for breakfast instead."

"Will I see you before we go?"

"I don't know. After we're done with breakfast we'll have to start with lunch."

"If we don't see each other", Legolas said, "I'll miss you a lot. And... eat a lot of ginger bread for me in winter, will you?"

Cuguiel smiled and blinked hard. "I will then. And you must tell me everything about Rivendell when you come back."

"There you are", mother said when Legolas and Cuguiel walked out of the store room. She was only half dressed, in a plain woolen dress with her dark hair let out and curling down her back. "I hope you're not just here to eat sweets?"

All the maids hastily assured her that the queen needn't worry about that, because the prince was very helpful, but he was welcome to eat sweets, if he wanted, unless the queendidn't approve... It did happen that Legolas walked down to the kitchen for sweets, but most often it was to help Cuguiel to chop turnips or scrub the kitchen floor, or at least to keep her company while she did that. The kitchen was the best place to hide when he didn't want to be found, for no one ever thought to look for a prince there.

"I need you to to try out your new shoes, in case they need to be adjusted", mother said. "And there's a lot of things to prepare before you can leave. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes", Legolas said, though he had wanted to stay longer with Cuguiel.

They left the kitchen, the glow of the small fire fading in the tunnel behind them. They were only ones moving in the tunnels, and the wind of course, though the wind was rather at rest this morning and only barely managed to stir the tapestries on the rough stone walls. When they came up over ground they could see the forest through the arrows-slits on the nothern side, foggy and bluish in the silver-crisp twilight that had only just grown out of the dark.

"So", mother said after a while, "how do you feel about the journey now?"

Legolas demonstratively kicked on an empty bottle that someone had dropped on the floor. "I don't want to leave."

"Still not?"

"Never."

Mother sighed. "I know you have heard a lot about the noldor, a lot of bad things. That they are proud and arrogant, that they are vain and refuse to see their own faults. Do you know who more is proud and arrogant?"

"Who?"

"Your father", said mother with a gleam in her eyes. "He is too proud and arrogant for his own good, and he will never change. Yet we love him despite that, because he is not _only_ that. And do you know who more is vain?"

Legolas shook his head.

"Your sister is vain", mother said. "And yet also one of the bravest and kindest elves I know. And do you want to know someone who refuses to see her own faults? I do."

"I don't understand."

"The noldor are different from us", mother said, "and they have done many bad things, and they brought a lot of sorrow to Middle Earth. But they are not wicked. At heart they are just like any other elf. They have their faults and their strengths, as do I, and your father, and Merilin, and you too. They are not bad folk, Legolas. And they will welcome you as their own, I'm sure."

They turned down the stair to the Hall of Trees and Legolas folded his arms across his chest. "I don't want them to welcome me."

"Oh, child..." She stopped and hunkered down before him, so her long dark hair touched the stone floor. For a while she was quiet. Then she took his hands in hers. "There is another reason we send you to Rivendell."

Something in her voice told Legolas that this was something she had not planned to say.

"You know that Greenwood suffers. You know not only because the hunters and foresters have told you, but because you have felt it. Is that not so?"

"It is."

"Tinuhen has not", mother said and looked sad. "He does not feel the forest like that. He is a sindar elf above anything, though sometimes he is even more like a noldor; he does not listen to the trees as you do, nor does the earth or the streams tell him much. Your brother may be wise and learned and very sophisticated, but he does not know Greenwood as you do. And yet he is the one we send to speak for Greenwood, because in every other way he is fit for it."

"What's sophisticated?"

"Oh - it's that you're very knowledgable and uh, fine, so to speak. Educated."

"And I'm not?"

"Did I say that?"

"Tinuhen did."

Mother smiled. "Well, perhaps you are not, but you are young. What I wanted to say, Legolas, is that Tinuhen needs to understand more about Greenwood than he ever will on his own. He must know what the trees say, what the earth feels. You must tell him that, Legolas. You must help him. Your father and I need you for that."

Legolas looked up at her, bewildered. He had never thought there was something he could do that someone else could not. Mother could have gone, or Merilin, or father; but they sent Legolas, and trusted him to do what had to be done.

"Then I won't fail you", he said. To his surprise, it came out all mature and grave.

"I know you won't." Mother straightened. "On the way, you'll meet the elves by the Forest Road. They'll be excited to have you among them, I'm sure, though they have not been in touch with us for years. Then Radagast will meet up with you and ride with you to Rivendell. It was long since you met Radagast, was it not?"

"Well, it was", Legolas said, and felt a bit better. "Will he stay with us there?"

"He will, at least until Midwinter. Gandalf should be there too."

"And then I'll come home?"

Mother smiled. "As soon as the High Pass thaws. Come along now. Let's get you those shoes, so you have a chance to walk them in a bit."

* * *

In the Hall of Fire, Legolas was seated to the left of Merilin, who sat to the left of mother. That placed him as far away from Tinuhen as possible, which meant his brother had to lean over the table to see anything he could complain about; and Tinuhen would never lean over the table, since that would look uncultivated. Figuring it was the last time for several weeks he would be that far from his brother's line of sight, Legolas enjoyed it as much as he could.

He sank back in his chair and cupped his hands around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Down below the dais the warriors that would ride with them to Rivendell laughed and talked around the tables, passing each other jars of butter or pouring spoonfuls of raspberry jam over their porridge. They were clad in sturdy wool and hide, and their leather jerkins and rucksacks lay under the tables. Hethulin oiled her bow while her daughter smeared butter all over her face, and Maidh was counting his arrows.

"Why do we need so many warriors?" Legolas asked and blew on the chocolate.

"Because the road may be dangerous", mother replied. "When you ride on the Forest Road you will be close to the Shadow, close enough that the forest there will be affected by it. And in the mountains you may run into wolves - or worse."

"Which is why you shouldn't send a child", Merilin said sourly.

Mother sighed. "Merilin..."

"I know we've talked about this already, but..."

"You have already been to Rivendell", mother said.

"Tinuhen has also..."

"Merilin", father said, without looking up from the letter he was reading. "We have talked about this already. Tinuhen is the eldest, and we need you here."

Merilin glared at him, lifted her fox up from under the table and put it defiantly in her lap where it wasn't supposed to be during meals. For once no one said anything about it. Merilin was always the kindest, sweetest girl one could imagine, but she had so dearly wanted to go to Rivendell.

Tinuhen pushed his plate away. "What is the letter saying, father?"

"That we were right", father said with a sigh. "There has been travellers on the Forest Road, and the elves in the outer settlements say some of them has been asking strange questions. The road is guarded. Someone is expecting us to travel to Rivendell."

"Why?" Merilin asked. Legolas pretended he was not listening, in case they would send him away.

"You know why", mother said. "Someone does not want an alliance to form between the last elven realms of Middle Earth. They would drive a wedge between us and lord Elrond, and whatever happened to Tuiw almost let them succeed."

"Will they try to stop us?" Tinuhen asked. "Perhaps more warriors..."

"No more warriors", father said. "You will only draw attention to yourselves. No, we will do as we have discussed earlier. You will travel in disguise."

Legolas almost dropped the chocolate in his lap. "Whaa -"

"I see that you are listening", father said with a quick smile. "Good. You need to know this. When you set out today, you will not do it as the princes of Greenwood."

"Then how?"

"Beren will act as your leader - don't give me that, Tinuhen, he _is_ older than you. You will ride as second in command, and if anyone asks - if you cannot avoid contact - you will not give your name away. The same goes for Legolas. I suggest Beren act as his father. It will not raise much question that the son of a commander follows him on a journey to learn."

Legolas leaned to Merilin and whispered: "If Beren is my father, Tinuhen can't boss with me so much."

"Perfect", Merilin said and blinked.

"You will need to dress accordingly", father said. "Yes, you too, Tinuhen."

"Goodness", Tinuhen said. "What is lord Elrond going to say when we show up at his door like - like a group of beggars... well, Legolas is going to fit in, anyway."

"Sweetheart", mother said with an edge to her voice.

"Well, he is", said Tinuhen and actually leaned over the table to give Legolas a stern look. "He cannot even sit straight."

"Can, too! Just because I don't want to..."

"I would like to hear you say that to lord Elrond!"

"I will say it if he asks!"

"You little beast!" Tinuhen snapped, but at that moment mother roared at him to hold his nasty tongue, and Legolas shrunk in his chair and kept quiet to. Mother wasn't often angry, but when she was, she turned into a dragon.

"You two", she said and looked from the eldest to the youngest of her children with eyes as cold as steel, "have goblins in your mouths. Keep them shut or they'll jump out on the table. Tinuhen, if you have finished your breakfast I suggest you leave until you remember your manners. And Legolas, you need to change."

"That is right", father said and sounded very tired. "Galion!"

"My lord?"

"Does Legolas has any plain winter wear, anything suitable for a journey that will not make him look a prince?"

"He has, my lord, if he hasn't grown out of it yet."

"He will need his formal clothes packed down."

"Come, my prince", Galion said. "Let us get you dressed before your father changes his mind yet again."

Legolas took his cup of hot chocolate and followed him from the room, trying to ignore Tinuhen's staring at his back.

* * *

"There", Galion said. "Now you look the son of a revered commander, though I don't know how Beren will explain your hair."

"I don't think anyone will ask", Legolas said and threw a glance in the mirror. To Cuguiel, the green tunic with its silver embroidery and the new shoes of softest leather would look splendid. Legolas was mostly glad to get rid of the high collared travel robe.

"Your father wanted you to wear your mail shirt", Galion said and began to neatly fold the discarded robe. "But the dwarves aren't done with it yet."

"If they don't hurry up it'll be too small for me when they finish."

"True that." Galion put the folded robe on the bed, absently smoothing out an almost invisible wrinkle on the cover. He walked over to the window and closed and secured the shutters. The paint was beginning to wear of. Legolas supposed Tinuhen would not want to fix it. You should've taken care of it better, he would say.

"It will feel strange not to have you around, little leaf", Galion said. "But Rivendell! What an adventure it will be."

"I bet it won't."

"Don't say that. It's a long journey, and I'm sure the noldor are pleasant enough when they're not singing sad songs or talking about the stars."

Legolas traced the carvings around the mantlepiece with his finger, and it struck him how familiar his room was and how strange it would be to sleep in another bed. The room had become more familiar to him than the telain in the forest had ever been. The blotches of melted candlewax on the floor below his nightstand, the place where the door creaked and the uneveness of the stone floor; all were things that Legolas had never thought about, but still come to love.

He bit his lip and felt the flutter of fear in his chest.

"Here, now", Galion said and swept him in his arms. "Don't worry so much. It'll be fine once you're on the road, and when it's time to go back, it will feel as though you've hardly been away. You're a brave young elf, Legolas. You have nothing to fear."

"I'm not, though", Legolas said. "I'm not brave at all."

Galion helped him on with his cloak and fastened the large silver brooch on the front. The cloak had been made specifically for the journey in pale green wool, with slits at the sides and a hood wide enough to hide a badger in. The lining was white deer fur. Mother had said that if Legolas ever needed to hide, he would turn the cloak inside-out, and he would be impossible to spot in snow.

"There", Galion said, "now you look like a true wood-elf." He paused, then bent down. "You may not know it yet, Legolas, but you are brave. Like your mother and father, you have greatness in you. And you will find it when you need it most."

At last, when the morning was nearing day, the elves who were going to Rivendell gathered around in the Hall of Trees, almost ready to go. They stood in a wide circle, thirty-nine elves in all, sweating by the fire in their warm woollen cloaks, but shivering in the air from the open doors. Tinuhen held a sort of speech that no one understood, but then he walked away and Beren told the elves to listen closely and laid his arm around Legolas shoulders.

"Now", he said, "here we are. We have a long and difficult journey ahead of us. We will ride in the early mornings and at dusk, and we will avoid other travellers on the roads if we can. As you have heard, neither the name Tinuhen nor the name Legolas must be spoken. An though it may seem we have a lot of time we must hurry. If we are unlucky the High Pass may be snowed shut, and we will have to head south for the Dimrill Stair instead."

"What's the Dimrill Stair?" Legolas asked.

"It is a pass to the south", Beren explained. "Close to the lost kingdom of Moria, where the dwarves lived."

"Ugh! I'm glad it's lost."

"Don't say that, my prince", said Beren very mildly. "It would have been a safer road had the dwarves still lived there."

"But less pleasant and more smelly", said Maidh and made everyone laugh.

Beren smiled and said: "Prince Tinuhen's errand in Rivendell is a very important one. Even I do not know all the details, but there is a hope that the lord of Rivendell might help us to quench the Shadow, or at least to find out what it is. It is very important that we arrive in time."

"What, does lord Elrond only grant audiences before Midwinter?" someone asked, and everyone laughed again.

"He will be so tired after all the wine that he cannot even leave his bed until New Years Eve", said Maidh. "And then there's more wine!"

"Have you no respect for the Peredhel?" Beren asked, which was a mistake. Now everyone joked that it was because lord Elrond was only half an elf he could not keep up with the others' drinking; and who knew, since Men were known to be flighty, if he didn't amuse himself with some dunedain lasses, now that lady Celebrían... but at that point Beren yelled at them to stop. He looked at Legolas meaningly, then sent Hethulin away because she laughed too much to breath.

"What I wanted to say", said Beren, "was that our journey will be harsh and we will have no time to quarrell or fight. We will need each other. I know you warriors might think you are the ones everyone else will depend on, but if we do get in battle, then you will need our healers just as much as they need you. And if one of the wagon's break, then we'll come nowhere without Naru. So if we are to get to Rivendell in time, if we are to save Greenwood, then we must do that together."

Legolas felt as if even the stone trees around them leaned forward to listen, and the smoke that billowed up and out through the windows brought Beren's words out for all of Greenwood to hear.

"When we set out today", Beren said, "we do it as one. We do it for our friends and loved ones, for our kin by the Forest Road, for every beast and bird and plant, for every tree in Greenwood the Great. And when things go against us, or when your comrades are trampling all over your nerves, that's what I want you to remember."

"You should have said that to Tinuhen too", Legolas said when they were leaving the Hall of Trees and walked down the stairs to the courtyard. "He'll be stomping on my nerves and all of me whenever he can."

"He better not", said Beren, but Legolas was not certain even the Guard's Captain could do something about it.

To the very last minute Legolas hoped that something would happen that forced them to stay, but no such thing happened. They gathered on the courtyard, horses and travellers and everyone else milling about and taking farewell. There was a fine haze of rain that made everything blurry and grey.

Two wagons they had, and in one space had been made between the barrells of food and sacks of hay for Laeros. Everyone fell silent when the healers came down the stairs with him. Very few people had seen him since he arrived earlier that autumn; he had been kept in the infirmary, and now they all saw why. Laeros did not look at any of them. His hair was growing out unevenly and his eyes looked too big for his head. The healers walked on either side of him, holding him upright, and he grasped for a hold of their tunics as if they were branches and he a leaf struggling against storm winds; it seemed impossible that those bony hands could hold so much strength. The healers tucked him inside the wagon and pulled the curtains to. Only when he was out of sight, did the other elves start talking again.

Mother hugged Legolas for what felt like a year and when he squirmed out of her arms, she hastily blinked away tears. Merilin said that Rivendell wasn't a bad place and Legolas was going to like it once he was there. Father said: "Take care, little leaf," and then it seemed he wanted to say something more, but he did not.

The travellers sat up on their horses and waved goodbye, one last time, to the Mountain and the Greenwood elves.

"Everyone ready?" rang Tinuhen's voice over the others.

"Ready!" the travellers called. Hethulin kissed her daughter one last time before she handed her to her father. Maidh's mother ran up with an extra tunic he had forgotten. Waving and cheering they rode out. They passed through the arch of the great Doors and over the churning stream. Trees like watchful giants stretched high over their heads, their branches entwined to a roof so far up they were but a blur in the haze of rain; the horses hoove's whispered over leaves and damp earth.

The forest closed around them, as if the Mountain had never been there.

* * *

Long after the last riders had passed over the bridge and faded into the shadows of the forest, Thranduil still stood on the stair and looked after them.

"This will be a trial for both our sons", Gwiwileth said.

"It will", Thranduil agreed. "And not only for them."

The sight of the riders cheering and laughing as they left, all so eager to be on their way, had filled him with a sense of forboding. They weren't warriors. They were hunters and hall-guards who knew the dangers of the forest, but little else; Beren was the only one who had fought in anything else than a skirmish.

Thranduil would have sent real warriors - but there were none. When the remains of the Greenwood host returned after the battle in the dark lands, neigh on three thousand years ago, they had thrown their weapons to the ground in dismay, and few had picked them up again. When the Sorcerer took abode in the southern part of the forest, they had fled; and they had fled everytime the Shadow had come too close. Always fled, never fought.

But the road to Rivendell went close to the Shadow and over treacherous mountains. It might demand more of the travellers than they were prepared for.

"Thranduil?" Gwiwileth slipped her arm around his waist. "Is aught wrong?"

She looked out the Doors, and Thranduil knew what she thought about. Could she feel the Shadow watching her across the vastness of the forest, the way he could? The Shadow some said was but a man, but whose presence Thranduil knew too well, too well...

No, he thought and yearned suddenly to call the travellers home, close the Gates and all windows and never look out again. No, Thranduil, do not think of the Dark One. Not him. He was vanquished.

"It is nothing", he said. The Mountain was safe. The Shadow may crawl into soil and root, seep into wind and water, but into the Mountain it would not come. No battle ram would break the magic gates. They would endure, come what may.

Come what may.

* * *

_Huge thanks to tumblr user miss-elessar for proof-reading, and thank you all for reading, favouriting and commenting! It means a lot to hear from you! _

_The story has taken off - now is when the adventure begins. Please tell me what you think :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

**The Elves go West**

"How long till we come to the Forest Road?" Legolas asked.

"Three days at the most", said Beren. "We will follow the Mountain Road, so the ride will be rather easy."

Tinuhen looked at them over his shoulder. "Mountain Road! This is a path, naught more. Not even the Forest Road is a proper road. Real roads are broad and paved and straight as an arrow's flight - those in Gondor have three files, one for footmen, one for riders, and one for wagons."

"And they have Men on them, too", said Legolas. "I don't like straight and paved roads."

"You have never seen one."

"Neither have you."

Tinuhen sighed and turned forward again, muttering something about unsophisticated, or if it was uncultivated this time.

The road (or path) was water-sick and the drizzle clung to the air. It was very still. When the path narrowed, Legolas strecthed his arms wide and let his hands brush against the wet bark of the trees edging it. They did not speak to him, and he did not want them to. He could feel that they bade him farewell.

Amlûg threw his head and snorted, eager to stretch his legs and run. Legolas had never ridden him further than to Lake-town, and that was two years ago when Amlûg was still very young, but now it was as if he knew he was out on a long, long journey and wanted to get going. But Beren said that if the horses were to last the journey they must spare their strength from the beginning, so they kept a calm pace.

Amlûg wasn't the only one who was restless. Maidh suddenly spurred his horse and gallopped right through a deep puddle, splashing water all over himself and the elves around him. Tinuhen yelled at him for ten minutes straight, which gave Beren a headache, and Maidh laughed so hard he almost fell off his horse.

"We're not going to get bored as long as Maidh is with us", Hethulin said. "Furious, maybe, but not bored."

The drizzle never stopped, and it never turned into a real rain. Crows croaked in the mist. They passed Cloaked Hill, then the stream where Legolas had caught frog's eggs when he was little and the place where mother used to set her snares. Then they ate their lunch by another stream beneath a couple of _telain_, but the elves who used to live their had moved into the Mountain for the winter. Legolas walked around in his stiff newly-made shoes and all the travellers, expect for Beren and Tinuhen who were used to riding, complained that they were tired and sore and never wanted to sit on a horseback ever again. Laeros did not leave his cart, and no one really wanted him to. They stayed off the road for a few hours and set off when it was beginning to darken.

They had not come very far when a wheel on one of the wagon's broke and they had to wait for Naru to repair it.

"I've changed my mind", Hethulin said. "We will be both furious _and_ bored. Maidh, do something funny."

"If Maidh does something funny again I will send him back to the Mountain if I so have to carry him", Beren said. Maidh was quiet.

Legolas jumped up and down in the moss. His feet were itching. If he didn't get to walk soon his legs would jump off and run away by themselves, but Tinuhen didn't want anyone to stray.

A few hours later, when it was almost dark, they found a place suited for a camp.

They set up tents in a circle, tethered the horses to poles they drove into the ground, and made a fire between some stones that Legolas and Hethulin found by a nearby stream. They made their dinner in the dark (but elves have always liked the dark) and sat under the stars eating bread and soup and telling stories. Only Laeros and one of his healers stayed in the wagon, and now and then they heard him sobbing, but no one mentioned it. Legolas was glad as long as Laeros stayed in there. He never wanted to see his haunted eyes again, or the scar-crossed skin stretched taunt over his bones.

The trees creaked and whispered, leaves floated down on their heads. Maidh told them the story of the Pale Child, and though everyone knew it wasn't real, they all started looking over their shoulders into the dark. Legolas huddled under his cloak between Beren and Hethulin. It was rather cold now, not that the elves minded, and the fire gleamed in ebony and hazel hair, in spear-tips and helmets. This morning, he had woken in his own bed in the mountain and everything had been as usual. He'd not wake up in that bed for a very long time now. But frightening as that thought might be, it was also exciting, like a story that's slightly too scary, but that you also really want to hear the end of.

Eitelend and Beren stayed up late, long after they had told Legolas to go to sleep. He lay alone in the tent, expect for Hethulin, who was fast asleep, and listened to the low murmur of voices outside, and the humming of tree-voices, and the crackle of the fire. Now and then one of the horses scraped with a hoof in the moss, or one of the sentinels shifted weight from one foot to the other, and Legolas twisted under his blanket and could not sleep.

Then Tinuhen said: "I cannot imagine a single person in Rivendell who would want us ill. Do you not think father is just being over-suspicious?"

"I thought so at first", came Beren's voice. Legolas lay completely still and listened hard. "But the incidents have been too many and too close... what with Tuiw and all..."

"We do not know if that has anything to do with it. We have not even found him yet!"

"All the more reason to be cautious. If he's been killed..."

Legolas breath caught in his throat. When Tuiw did not return from Rivendell, everyone had known he might be dead - but no one had said he might have been _killed_.

"Hush", Tinuhen said. "Do not say that too loud, we do not want people to worry..." He lowered his voice to a whisper and all that Legolas heard was _message_ and something about _could be... accident_.

Beren said that great things were happening and_ it is no strange that..._

"But consider this", Tinuhen said, raising his voice again. "If the last message was hindered too, on purpose, who would have done that? Who would have known the time of the council had been moved? Very few expect those who will participate. And that means..."

"Yes", Beren said. "That means treachery, and from the very midst of the Wise."

The discussion died then, but it was as though all things unsaid and half-said hung in the air long afterwards. The word treachery found its way into Legolas' dreams and made them anxious and dark. It had an ominous sound to it.

* * *

"Yavanna have pity on my poor back!" Hethulin groanded on the morrow. "I am probably dying."

"Do you want me to do something funny?" Maidh asked and looked with interest at the half-full bucket of water beside her.

"Don't you dare! One step closer and I'll cut you in half."

But if the journey started with a lot of grumbling, the travellers slowly found a rythm in the steady course of the days. They got up before dawn, let the horses graze their fill, walked beside them a while to get warm themselves, then mounted and rode until the day was full. During the brightest hours they stayed off the Mountain Road, empty as it was on other travellers, but rode on from dusk until it was nearly dark. The road took them far away from places that Legolas knew. He let Beren hold Amlûg's reins and climbed into the trees to look around, straying a bit from the path, then returning, then straying again.

On the third day they ate their last fresh bread, and that night they shared camp with a couple of hunters who had had a bad luck. Beren decided to share the last of their meat with them.

"Not much game in these parts", they said and gnawed hungrily on dried mutton strips. "We wouldn't have gone so far, but we were following a boar and her cubs. Then we lost her."

"Might have been just as well", said Hethulin. "Do you really want to eat a creature that strays this far south?"

"Huh. True enough."

"Why not?" Legolas asked.

"Because normal creatures don't go this close to the shadow-wood", Hethulin said. "Those that do aren't... healthy."

"Doesn't the elves by the Forest Road hunt, then?"

"They do, but cursed if I know how they dare to."

When they broke camp the next morning, the forest felt different. The tree-voices sounded distant and the branches that wove over the pale grey sky blocked out almost all the light. They had to stop earlier than usual for lunch, because Laeros was tossing and turning in his wagon and the healers did not know how to make him stop. They lifted him down on the ground, and Laeros stumbled and fell. For a long while he just sat on the cold brown leaves and shook.

The others were making a fire, and Legolas hunkered down a little to the side and watched Laeros sideways. He had begun to sit with the others at dinner now, at least for as long as he could take it before he became anxious by so much people, and anyway he needed to leave the wagon now and then, so the others were getting used to his quiet, haunted presence. But this was different. The healers were desperate; they did not know what to do.

"You're in the way", Tinuhen grumbled and pushed past Legolas, because apparently his horse had to be tethered just there. Legolas glared at his back and decided he could just as well make himself useful, so he began to help Naru with the fire. The carpenter smiled at him and showed him how to make a platform of larger pieces of wood and build the fire on top of it, to keep it from the wet ground.

Eventually Laeros stopped shaking and they could move on.

They came to a clearing where the afternoon sun tinted the grass gold. Across it the forest rose again, but the wood-elves stopped hesitantly before it. The trees loomed high over their heads and threw shadows over the grass; barely any sunlight found its way through their naked branches, barely any wind blew through the shrunken undergrowth between their wriggling roots. The tree-voices were dark and mournful.

"Is this the shadow-wood?" Legolas asked.

"Yes and no", said Beren. "It is very close to the border, but the true Shadow is further south."

"What exactly is the border?"

"I'm not sure", Beren replied. "You might say it is magic - you could not touch it, or see it, though I suppose you can tell where it is by the look of the forest. Thranduil holds it up by his will, and the Shadow cannot pass it."

"My father does that?"

"Aye."

Tinuhen rode on inside. The shadows ate him like the night eats the moon, and Legolas wanted the warriors to follow him, but no one did. With darkness hiding his face and taking the gold out of his pale hair, Tinuhen surveyed the road ahead, then turned to the company in the sun. "It appears to be safe."

"Well and good. I will take up the rear", Beren said. "The Forest Road will be close now and if we are lucky, we will reach on of the settlements before it gets too dark. I want Hethulin and Maidh to keep an eye up front, and you, Legolas, will stay close to Tinuhen and obey everything he says. Is that understood?"

Legolas looked up at Tinuhen, who seemed unsure if he should be angry or relieved that Beren took command, and sighed. Tinuhen heard that and shot him a warning glance.

"Yes."

"Good. Let us move on."

They rode in silence now. With Maidh surveying the road ahead, and Beren at the rear keeping an eye on the forest, there was no one to lighten the mood. On Beren's orders, the warriors had strung their bows and made sure their spears or swords were close at hand.

When Hethulin gave a shout, they all tensed, the warriors gripped their spears tighter, and Legolas listened for any warning from the trees. Then Maidh returned.

"We've found the Forest Road", he said, and with a smile, the first since they entered the almost-shadow-wood, he added: "Hethulin was so shocked when she found cobbles in the forest she almost fell off her horse. I swear if she was any more silvan, she would be a tree."

"Excellent", Tinuhen said and seemed to relax a bit. "Now then, Legolas, I bet you do not remember the Forest Road."

"Is it different from this one?"

Tinuhen smiled in a way that made Legolas think of files for footmen and wagons and riders, but it was not quite so.

The Forest Road had been paved once by skilled hands, but the forest had long since taken over. Moss grew between the cobbles, and the milestones were overturned; slick plants filled the dikes. Dappled by sunlight where the trees stood scarcer on each side, it was broad enough for three to ride easily beside each other.

"It used to be finer", Tinuhen said, disappointed. "When we lived in Eden Bar there was not so much moss on it."

Legolas looked up and down the road as far as he could see in the dark. "Is Eden Bar the old hall?"

"Which of them?" Tinuhen asked. "There are many old halls."

"I mean the one where I was born."

Tinuhen gave him a faint smile. "Yes, that was Eden Bar."

"So is that near?"

Tinuhen nodded. It was the longest conversation Legolas had had with him without any of them starting a fight.

"It is close to the settlement where we will sleep tonight", Tinuhen said. "The elves there lived in the hall before, but they refused to leave when the King and Queen did."

"Can't we go and look at it?"

"There's nothing left to look at. The Shadow took it long ago. And we must stay on the Road."

Legolas was disappointed, but Tinuhen did not sound like he wanted to discuss it. After a while Legolas asked: "Why did we leave the tree-hall? Why didn't we stay and fight the Shadow?"

Tinuhen only looked at him, and suddenly he seemed older than ever; and sad, sad as father. He looked at Legolas as if he wanted to say, you don't know, you don't understand, you have not seen what I have seen.

"Because we did not want to die", he said coolly, and turned away.

* * *

It grew dark quickly. They lit torches, and the shadows leapt and danced in a frenzy around them. Legolas kept as close to Tinuhen as the horses would allow.

Finally Tinuhen said: "We must stop for the night. This is too dangerous. We can go on to the settlement tomorrow."

"Agreed, my prince", Beren said. "We need to set up the tents while - "

"Look out!" Hethulin cried. Everyone jumped, and the warriors pulled their swords halfway out of their sheaths.

"Peace", a voice said from the shadows. Then all of a sudden there were elves around them - foreign, dark-eyed elves clad in fur and leather, with pale stern faces like they never saw the sun and seldom laughed. Other elves would have laughed and mocked the travellers for being jumpy, but these ones simply looked on with eyes as black as the forest.

One of them stepped into the torchlight. She had copper-red hair kept in many small braids, bow in hand and quiver over her shoulder, and a white fur flung over her shoulders.

"Prince Tinuhen", she said and bowed her head lightly. "We are honoured to have you here. Has the journey been well?"

"Ah, uh - " Tinuhen blinked, caught of guard. "Yes. Though it saddens us greatly to see the forest in this state."

"What state? Oh - you mean the Shadow." She smiled briefly, a stern non-smile that struggled against the stiff, red-gleaming scars trailing down the corner of her mouth. "I forget it is not like this everywhere."

"Pardon me, my lady, but I must have forgotten your name."

"It's Ninniach, and I am no lady, my prince. I was a maid of your mother's."

Legolas' eyes widened. "I remember you! You used to sew a lot... and you had a dog that followed you everywhere! And you told stories..."

"Ah, prince Legolas", Ninniach said and this time she smiled wider. The left side of her face held the marks of old flames, and her eyes were sharp as steel blades, but apart from that she looked like the kindly maid he vaguely remembered. "I am glad to have you here again in the shadow-wood. It is not a bad place to live, once you get used to it, though dangerous to travel through. Especially at night, of course, which reminds me. We must go on towards the settlement. You may follow me. There is a shorter route through the trees."

"Broad enough for a wagon?" Tinuhen asked.

Ninniach looked confused. "Why do you bring a wagon?"

"That can wait. Let us take the road. We cannot leave it behind."

"Very well then", Ninniach said. She raised her hand and made some kind of sign. Without a word, the rest of her elves spread out around the riders, some between the trees, some in their branches, and Ninniach herself set off at a brisk pace. Tinuhen urged his horse after her, and Legolas after him. He felt a bit safer, because Ninniach seemed able to handle these woods.

No one spoke a word until the glow of a fire became visible in the dark. Then one of the elves of the shadow-wood called out, and far away by the fire he was answered by clear voices. The trees opened into a clearing, and tents emerged from the dark, big hide tents surrounded a palissade made of sharpened poles. Through the wooden gate they rode.

The elves of the shadow-wood - Legolas thought about them as such, even though he knew the real Shadow was still far away - all had those dark eyes and pale faces, and their furs and skins were many times mended, their tents old and weather-worn. But they greeted the riders warmly, if not as merrily as they would have done elsewhere in Greenwood. They made them sit down on long hewn logs around the fire, and bowls of steaming pheasant-and-cabbage soup were passed around - though the settlement did not have enough bowls, so the riders had to fetch some of their own.

"So you are the leader?" Beren asked Ninniach while they ate.

She chewed down a piece of stringy meat and shook her head. "We have no leaders."

"Ninniach is the most capable of leading hunts, and such things", another elf added. "She often leads when we need a leader."

"At other times, I do not", Ninniach said.

Judging by the eagerness with which the elves of the shadow-wood had eyed the weapons and armour from the mountain, and that they seemed to have more bows than bowls in their settlement, Legolas supposed that 'such things' meant fighting.

The elves explained they always kept an eye out on the Forest Road. It was still passable, but mostly thanks to them, because they escorted travellers through all the dangerous parts - sometimes on the ground, taking the chance to gather news and to trade, and sometimes when the travellers were unfriendly (or dwarves) from the trees, never coming down to talk.

"We have never left anyone on their own", said an elf with golden-brown eyes like late-summer honey. Like all the others he spoke very quietly, as if he was afraid to give himself away. "Unless, of course, they're downright hostile, which happens sometimes. A settlement to the east met a couple of men who must have been outlaws or the like. They didn't want any help and didn't get any. They were killed the next day."

"By what?" Legolas asked.

"No", Tinuhen said, before the elf could reply. "We won't talk about that now. It's not important. It's late, isn't it?"

Ninniach slowly shook her head. "No, it isn't very late. Why do you say that?"

"Because it is dark", Tinuhen said.

"But it is always dark."

"Oh", Tinuhen said, and his face fell. "Well, it does not darken this early further from the shadow-wood, but I suppose it is different here."

"Does it not? Then I beg your pardon, my Prince. I had forgotten that."

"Forgotten?!

"It was long since I saw it."

"That long? Why, you should travel more, see the real Greenwood! It's not far, not even a day's ride. I do not see why you stay here all the time?"

"No, you don't", Ninniach said and fixed her gaze on the leaping flames of the log-fire. "If I saw the forest as if once was, it would only make me sad. Perhaps I would not want to return to the shadow-wood - much like none of you mountain-elves do not return to it. Your hunters do not come here, not that there is much to find for a hunter who does not know where to look. No one wants to come into the shadow-wood. No one wants to know."

Tinuhen unconsciously began to chew at his thumbnail.

"But I must stay", Ninniach said. "I cannot tempt myself to leave. I will not abandon the forest. The _real_ Greenwood, as you call it, does not need my help; this Greenwood does. Is it truly the real Greenwood? I used to call it so, used to say that this, this is not it's true face, this is a sickness and it will soon pass. But it has been like this a long time now. Perhaps this has become the real Greenwood, and yours is only waiting to turn the same?"

Legolas looked into his empty bowl of stew and did not dare to say what he thought. But then Ninniach sighed and she sounded so sad he said it anyway.

"I don't think Greenwood has changed in heart. The tree-voices aren't different from outside the Shadow, only more sad. The earth is the same, only colder. And as long as it has the same heart, isn't it the same?"

"Little one", Ninniach said, and the scar across the corner of her mouth curved into a stiff smile. "You remind me of your mother."

"I do?"

"I knew her before she became the Elvenqueen", Ninniach said. "I followed her into the war, tended her wounds when she fell, and when she married the new King, I became her maid. Much we saw together, and never once did she forget Greenwood, nor did she lose hope for it. Gwiwileth may have left it now to be with her people, but I see much of her in you."

"We're going to save it", Legolas said. "There's a cure in Rivendell."

Ninniach smiled at that, but did not answer. She didn't look like she believed it.

* * *

Thank you all for reading, and please leave a review! Any input, question or suggestion is appreciated, or just tell me what you think :)

Huge thanks to tumblr user miss-elessar for proof-reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

**Ill Tidings**

Legolas woke at dawn by the sounds of the settlement coming to life. The strokes of an axe against a chopping-block echoed over the settlement; people greeted each other as they got out of their tents, a small child screamed with breathless laughter and there was the sound of thin ice cracking and small feet splashing into water.

Legolas untangled himself from the blankets, pulled a tunic over his under-shirt and crawled out of the tent. Brittle frost glittered in first morning light and made the grass stiff and crunchy. Ninniach knelt by the fire and blew life into the embers.

"Winter's here", she said when Legolas sat down beside her, and gave him a lopsided grin. "Will you help me with this? Try to splint some of that wood, I need some smaller pieces. You can borrow my dagger."

"I have one."

She looked up when he drew it from his belt. "Oh, and a very fine one at that! Are those runes? What do they say?"

"They just say Legolas."

Ninniach smiled with some envy; most wood-elves could not read at all. "Now, careful so you don't cut yourself, okay? Push the dagger from you - and watch your feet!"

The light slowly spread over the clearing while Ninniach fed the embers with bigger and bigger splints. The homely smell of burning wood woke the other Mountain elves. Yawning and stretching they began to tend their horses and help with the breakfast.

"Say, my young friend", Ninniach said, "do you remember any of the tree-hall? Because I'm thinking your brother might want to see it."

"He doesn't", Legolas said. "I wanted to go see it but Beren said we'd only be sad and Tinuhen agreed with him."

"They sure are afraid to get sad, aren't they? I don't think it would hurt for your brother to see what has become of the hall."

"Why not?"

"Because it's no good to sit in your mountain and forget what it really is like out here. I want all the high lords and ladies of Greenwood to know what the Shadow is. To them it's just a word, but out here it's real."

Legolas considered it. "Maybe you could tell Tinuhen it would be a short-cut."

"You know, maybe I will", Ninniach said and strode away towards Tinuhen, who was just coming out of his tent, smoothing down the front of his embroidered travel coat.

The elves of the shadow-wood and the travellers sat down together around the fire and shared a thin porridge flavoured with dried berries. Legolas did not like it, but he didn't want to hurt anyone, so he ate it all. Then they passed around acorn-flour bread and the elves of the shadow-wood looked like it was a real feast. Laeros sat with them. The elves of the shadow-wood did not seem bothered by his silent prescence at all, as if they had seen worse things.

Somehow Ninniach persuaded Tinuhen that they should take the would-be short-cut past the old hall. A pale sun slanted down between the knotty branches when they rode away, waving good-bye to the settlement, but the path they followed to the old hall led them into even darker depths, were the branches covered the sky almost completely. The frost did not melt here, but it did not glitter in the grey shadows that were the only light. The hoof-beats, and the creaking and moaning of the wagons as they bumped over the trees-roots, sounded loud and out of place.

The elves of the settlement moved swiftly and soundlessly, like shadows. Now and then a face, eerily pale, glinted in the torch-light, or the tip of a spear reflected the light. Ninniach had gone quiet and serious again. Many of the riders looked around and mumbled to each other as if the places they passed were familiar. When they came to an old elm that lay just beside the path, hollow and broken and with its roots pulled violently from the ground in some long-ago storm, many elves cried out in horror, and Beren wailed with sorrow. Maidh, whose reputation as the jester would be ruined if he cried, told Legolas that elm-with-many-bird's-nests had been a much loved tree, and many birds had lived in her branches; sparrows and finches and a mighty eagle just below the sky.

Beren dried his tears with his sleeve. "We're getting close."

Ninniach nodded silently at that.

The trees opened to a clearing, and they stopped dead in the forest edge, and silence fell over them.

Before them the ground was black and charred, crossed with blackened tree-trunks, and under the ashes glinted broken lanterns and smashed goblets, a ruined tapestry, a torn silk dress.

The trees edging the clearing were scorched and dead, only a blackened stump remained of some. The elves could see the sky above, but it felt far away, and the sun could not make the place any happier. It was as though the fire had went out only an hour ago, and yet the air said it had been like this forever.

Beren wailed again. Hethulin clung to him, sobbing. Maidh hid his face in his hands.

"Is this the hall?" Legolas asked, and his voice felt too loud and too small all at once in the silence.

"_Ai Elbereth_", Tinuhen said. "I did not think it would be like this."

Ninniach bowed her head. "They did say something dark and powerful was here that night, something more than orcs."

The horses would go no further than the forest edge, and some elves stayed there as well. Legolas slowly walked over the charred ground. Now and then he felt something other than ashes under his feet; a plate, a book, a toy horse that for all he knew could have been his.

The hall felt small now, even smaller than the Hall of Trees at home, but once, he thought, it had been the whole world. There used to be great green oaks edging the clearing, and their branches used to stretch across the sky like a dark green veil. Legolas could not have told exactly where the tree with his family's talan had been.

At the far end of the clearing was a dais of smooth river stones, covered in slick black moss, and on it stood the thrones still looking out over the ruins of their hall. Legolas sat down on the dais between them. Maybe he had used to sit here once between his parents and watch other elves dance and feast in the hall. He traced the remnants of intricate carvings - leaves and flowers and berries - on the thrones with his fingers. Some paint remained beneath the layer of soot, bright green and yellow.

Beren came to sit beside him.

"This is... this is worse than I could imagine", he said and blinked away tears. "To see it like this. Of course, we all knew what happend but... to see it..."

"I thought we left it in a, you know, a planned sort of way. When it became dangerous."

Beren shook his head. "We fled, that's what we did, like hares from the fox."

Sometimes Legolas dreamt of fire, though he had never known why before. "What happened?"

"Orcs. They came one night, long before the Shadow had reached north of the southern mountains. Like you have been told, we had already moved many times by then as it spread. First from our homes in the southern eaves. Then from Taurtham in the Great Valley. From Galentham, west of the mountains. When we came here, we thought we might stay for ever, because the Shadow was so far away."

"Eden Bar."

Beren smiled faintly. "_New Home._ That was all we wanted."

"And then the orcs came."

"With fire. And swords. And something more than that - something darker. They spoke of a... a spirit, dark and yielding a great sword. I never saw it. But we were unprepared and they were many. So we ran. We heard the trees screaming behind us, and the elves that fell, but we ran. And we lived."

Legolas wrapped his arms tightly around his knees.

"As you know", Beren said, "we lived north of the Road in many years after that, spread out in little settlements just like the elves out here. We moved often and never let our guard down. And now we have the Mountain."

"Will the Shadow ever come to it?"

"Some day, perhaps, unless we can stop it before that happens."

"And if we can't, what will we do?"

Beren sighed. Then he put his hand on Legolas shoulder.

"We will do whatever the Elven King and Queen tells us to do. If they say we flee, then we flee. It is the only way."

"Ninniach didn't flee."

"And you have seen what has become of her. They're a hunted people, ever on the run. Sooner or later they must come to the Mountain."

When Tinuhen gave the order to set off again, Beren brushed soot from the back of his tunic and took Legolas by the hand. The other elves stood quiet and pale at the edge of the burned hall, and they all seemed to have aged a thousand years since they left the Mountain.

"It is time to leave", Tinuhen said, and for some reason he took Legolas' hand from Beren and squeezed it once, as if there was something he wanted to say, but he did not know how to.

Ninniach and her elves followed them back to the Road, and there they took farewell. Before they split, Ninniach took Legolas a little to the side.

"I will tell you something that you can tell your mother, when you see her again", she said, almost in a whisper. "I would not trust your brother with this."

Legolas looked up at her, wide-eyed.

"Most of us think the Shadow comes from the the old fortress, from Dol Guldur where the Sorcerer lives", Ninniach said. "That it was created by the Sorcerer to corrupt the forest. I do not agree."

"You don't?"

"A Sorcerer", said Ninniach, "would have made the forest fair, don't you think? A fair trap to lure people in, a bait for the unwary, an illusion to cover his evil workings. I think Greenwood created the Shadow. She knew what the Sorcerer would try to do, so she twisted and changed herself, so that she could never be used as a bait. The Shadow fits the Sorcerer, yes; it makes Greenwood dangerous, and keeps the elves away. But would it not have been worse if we had stayed?"

"Then there is no cure for the Shadow", Legolas said. "The only thing to do is to drive out the Sorcerer."

Ninniach nodded.

"Lord Elrond must know that. Maybe he can do it."

"Maybe", Ninniach said, though he could tell she did not believe it.

While the other shadow-wood elves vanished among the trees, Ninniach stood on the road looking after the travellers until the darkness took her. She waved when Legolas looked back, a tiny spot of copper hair and white fur, straight and slender as a young tree. Her words rang in his head over and over again.

Whatever Beren had said, Legolas did not think that Ninniach was the one on the run.

* * *

They came to a broad stream and stopped there to, screaming and shivering, wash themselves and their clothes from the first part of their journey. Two elves left to follow a deer track, and came back dragging a large hart. That evening they feasted on roast venison, and Hethulin split the bones in halves and they ate the marrow with their fingers; the fire crackled, the stars shone, and the trees seemed happy to have them there.

"Well, Legolas", Beren said that night, "do you still miss home?"

"I miss the Mountain", Legolas said, "but as long as it's Greenwood it's still home."

Beren smiled and threw another piece of wood on the fire.

"I wonder what mother and father is doing, though", Legolas said. "And Merilin. I hope they are fine."

"Why wouldn't they be?"

"No reason."

"Soon we will meet Radagast", Beren said. "That will give you something new to think of. I'm sure he has a lot of interesting things to tell us."

And on they rode through the almost-shadow-wood; through a forest of pines, and a forest of oaks, and a forest of elms; down long narrow valleys littered with mossy boulders, and over steep ridges with knife-sharp edges that leaned over dark lakes. Sometimes the wagons bumped over cobbles, sometimes they squeaked over roots, and sometimes they rolled smoothly over leaves and soft pine needles.

When it darkened one night - Legolas had lost count, but he thought it was the **tenth** night since they left the Mountain - they saw lights ahead of them near the Road, and voices that weren't elvish. The travellers stopped hidden among the trees and debated in hushed voices whether they should go on or not. They would have been wary even with merchants, but it was not trading season and the strangers were more likely to be outlaws than merchants.

Tinuhen sent Hethulin and another elf to investigate, and on Hethulin's suggestion Legolas was allowed to go with them to see and learn. They stole through the trees like shadows, keeping away from the moonbeams that lit up the forest floor. When they neared, they sank down ever so quietly in the branches and looked down. A dozen Men slept around the fire, curled up under thick blankets and furs. There was also a tent, a large red one, but there was no light in it. Used bowls and tankards had been casually beside an empty cauldron, and their horses were tethered nearby.

Legolas crept out on a long branch until he was right above the sleepers at the edges of the camp. He watched their strange, hairy faces and the plump shapes of their bodies beneath the blankets. One was awake across the fire. He seemed lost in though. Legolas gazed at him and wondered what a Man might be thinking about in the middle of the night.

The man looked up.

Legolas ducked and hid his face against the branch.

There was a long silence.

"I-I'm not afraid of you, elf", the man said finally. When Legolas glanced up, he saw the man looking around as if he was not sure if what he had seen was real or not. "I - we - we're only passing through, we want no ill."

Above him, Hethulin gave a clear laugh that made the man jump. She had not needed to reveal herself and Legolas wondered shamefully if she did it to draw attention from him, so that he would not be in danger if the Men proved hostile.

The lone man crept together like a frightened hare, then shoved the man beside him hard on the shoulder.

"Wake up - wake up!"

The other man rubbed his eyes and sat up, taking a sword from under the bundle of clothes that served as his pillow. Legolas wanted to crawl back before the whole camp woke, but he dared not move just then. But this man - he was older, and eyed the trees with more experience than fear - did not wake anyone else up. Instead he said, very quietly, without looking anywhere special: "We're mercenaries searching for a place to stay over winter, only travelling through and come in peace. We want you no ill. I'm sure you already know, but there's something foul afoot further north. The elves along the Road has told us things have been moving. Orcs. Wargs, maybe. They didn't want to specify, but told us to be careful."

Hethulin was quiet for such a long time the younger man seemed to think the elves had gone, but the older one only waited.

Finally Hethulin said: "Which way are you heading?"

"East. Not to the palace, mind, just through the forest."

"Worry not. You will be safe", said Hethulin. Then she began to move back, but she let the men hear her, and while they watched her Legolas could sneak back into safety.

"You were seen", Hethulin said on the way back. It wasn't a question, and not an accusation either; it was just a statement.

"He was scared of me."

"He was."

"Why?"

"Men are scared of what they don't know", Hethulin said. "And they are weak. To them we are very dangerous when we want to."

Hethulin didn't tell Tinuhen that Legolas had been seen, and a little later, Tinuhen decided the men proved no threat and decided they should simply pass them by. So that they did, a silent line of quiet shapes saying not a word, only letting their laughter be heard when the men gasped and gawked at their shadows.

Hethulin told Tinuhen and Beren what the old man had said about things moving up north.

"Strange", Beren said. "We've heard nothing of the sort. Maybe they wanted to scare us?"

"Greenwood is vast. 'North of here' can mean anything. We wouldn't know if it was far away."

"You are right", Beren said. "Still, it worries me that orcs or wargs would have dared to venture into Greenwood north of the Shadow. I hope it means nothing, but I'm afraid that it might."

* * *

That night, Legolas woke up because it suddenly became quiet.

Not completely quiet - there was still the sound of a light night's rain, and Tinuhen's even breaths - but the tree-voices were gone. Legolas pressed his palms against the fur beneath him. He could not feel the earth humming, nor the warmth of life that was there even when it was frozen.

When the branch-crossed sky of his dream faded, it became pitch-black. He could not see the roof of the tent; when he held a hand to his face he could not see it either. For a moment Legolas panicked, thinking he had gone blind; then he told himself it could not be so. He sat up, fumbled his way to the opening, and crawled clumsily outside.

The fire burned, a tiny dot of red in the dark, and shimmered faintly in the frost on the ground. Legolas let his breath out.

But it was still quiet. The guards were alert, staring into the dark.

"What's happening?" Legolas whispered.

Maidh looked unusually serious. "We don't know."

The darkness was so thick it was almost tangible. The fire was the only light; the sky was hidden behind crossed branches, where in the evening stars had been visible between them. The air had a cold, metallic taste to it, and it was hard to breath. And in the dark, branches creaked and moaned even though there was no wind, and they had a mournful and eerie sound. The rain clattered on brittle leaves like claws clicking against bark.

Legolas moved closer to the fire.

Other elves were waking too. The sudden abscence of tree-voices, and the stillness of the earth, woke them just like it had woken Legolas. They came out of their tents and stared at the creaking trees, and for a while no one uttered a word.

When someone actually spoke, they were all startled; Laeros had not said a word during the entire journey until then. His voice was hoarse and broken, and he swayed a little where he stood by the fire, arms wrapped tight around his skinny frame, as if the darkness was so heavy on him he almost bent under it.

"What did you say?" Tinuhen asked.

Laeros took his gaze from the forest and fixed it on Tinuhen.

"It is here", he repeated. "It has crossed the border."

"What has?"

"The Shadow", Laeros said.

The other elves stared at him, and winter seemed to grasp their hearts. The trees moaned as if to say that it was true. The fire flickered, fighting the darkness.

"What does that mean?" Maidh asked, but Laeros did not anwer.

"The Elvenking holds the border", one of the healers said. "If the border fails that must mean... there must be a reason the border fails, mustn't it?"

It was not very cold, but Legolas began to shiver. He wrapped his arms about him much like Laeros did, as if that was the only way to keep his own warmth from seepping out.

"It is no good to speculate", Beren said. "Tomorrow we'll meet Radagast. Maybe he knows more."

"It's probably nothing, right?" said Hethulin. "Nothing we can't handle anyway."

Beren looked doubtful, but the other warriors nodded. Legolas thought that if they believed they could handle it, it was probably true. They were warriors after all.

They did not sleep much more that night. Instead, they sat around the fire with their backs to the shadows and tried to talk about happier things. They told stupid jokes and played pointless games, and the warriors kept their weapons close even though there was nothing there they could fight.

On the morrow they broke camp early. They took down the tents before there was even a hint of light between the branches over their heads, then ate a swift breakfast and set off. It was cold and air was very still. Slowly the forest turned grey, a dark hazy kind of grey that seemed to be the closest to daylight the shadow-wood had.

They rode in silence now. Tinuhen sent scouts to survey the road ahead, and the warriors kept their weapons ready and their eyes wide open. Greenwood felt like a different world; different and eerie. Branches creaked and moved seemingly without reason. Their roots wriggled pale and worm-like over the road, and sometimes they trapped the horses' hooves and caused them to nervously dance away. The travellers were all so tense they jumped at every movement and every sound.

But when Legolas glanced over his shoulder he saw Laeros sit up and look out of the wagon over the driver's shoulder. There was something different about him; not like he was better, but like something had snapped back in place - the instinct to survive maybe.

The warriors had closed tight ranks around Legolas, and he could not see very much, but he did not want to either. The day went by in tense silence. At last they stopped at the eastern side of a broad stream, over which an old stone bridge span.

"Here is where we'll meet Radagast", Tinuhen said. "I suggest we just sit down and wait until he - "

"No need", came a familiar voice, and out of shadows of the opposite bank stepped a lean figure in a long robe. All at once the travellers straightened their backs and even the horses relaxed a little. Radagast had that effect on beasts and wood-elves alike.

Now he walked over the stone bridge, tall as a young tree and with bear moss growing in his beard. He had so many patches sewn to his robe it was hard to tell which hue and texture it had had in the beginning. But under his mossy hat and green-tinted eyebrows, Radagast's eyes were bright and clear as the sky. He was leading a sturdy grey horse loaded with gear.

"It is bad", he said, and when he came closer they could all see how worried he looked. "It is very bad, my friends."

"The Shadow, you mean?" Tinuhen asked. He had never liked Radagast much, maybe beause he lived in a ramshackle tower and had a bird's nest under his hat.

"Not in itself", Radagast said. "No, not the Shadow in itself."

Tinuhen sighed.

Sometimes Radagast reminded Legolas very much of the trees - especially the great oaks, and old willow-by-the-water. Even when he had something important to say, and even though he used very few words when he could, it often took him a long time to say things. It was as though he was so old he was never out of time. Or maybe he was like the trees and did not count time at all; merely watched the seasons pass without ever wondering when spring would come or how many days till Midsummer.

But Legolas had never seen the wizard quite this grave.

"It is the Elvenking", Radagast said. "I heard it from a sparrow, I did. The sparrow heard it from - nevermind - it is the Elvenking. Your father, my prince. I do not know the details, but - "

"By Elbereth, wizard, what happened to father?" Tinuhen burst out, and his voice rose in fear. "Is he ill?"

"Injured." Radagast leaned on his knotty staff. "The Elvenking is injured. As far as I know, he was out riding, a few miles from the Mountain. There he was attacked by orcs. There was a battle, and the Elvenking took a sword-cut to the side, but that is not all. The wound made him ill. I do not know if it was poison, or something else."

Legolas dug his fingers into Amlûgs mane and shut his eyes tight. When he looked again, it would not be real. When he looked again, it would only be a nightmare.

"What do you mean something else?" It was Beren who asked, for Tinuhen had gone very quiet.

"No orcs could come so close to the Mountain unseen", Radagast replied. "Not without help. There is something more at work here than a mere skirmish. But I do not want to speculate too much yet."

Tinuhen found his voice again. "What - what will you do?"

"I will ride to the Mountain and give whatever aid I can. I can ride swiftly on my own, and hopefully catch up with you on the road. If I don't..."

"But we'll go home, right?" Legolas said. "We'll go back to the Mountain! If father is wounded..."

"My child", Radagast said and turned to him for the first time. "Listen..."

Legolas stared at him wide-eyed. "We can't go on. You can't mean that. I am going back!" He looked at Tinuhen. "Won't we go back?"

Tinuhen glanced at Beren uncertainly, and Beren shook his head.

"Legolas", Tinuhen said, then licked his lips and didn't seem to know what to say. "You see... we have to go on. As far as we know father doesn't have to be badly wounded. Maybe he just has a fever, and it will be over soon. Our mission, it's much more important."

"More important than father?"

"We've been on the road for eleven days. By the time we get back to the Mountain father will be well again and we'll have turned for no reason."

"You don't know that", Legolas said. "Not if it was _something else_ than poison."

Tinuhen's eyes flickered towards Beren again.

"Listen, Legolas... uh..." He hesitated, then lowered his voice so that the only one who could possibly hear was Radagast. "Mother told you about - about the meeting, did she not? The meeting that I will attend at Midwinter's Eve. We are already late, we have very little margins if anything happens that delays us. There is no time for us to turn back to the Mountain and then turn again for Rivendell. And that meeting may just be the only hope that Greenwood has right now. Now you have seen the Shadow, what it does, how easily it spreads. Our border was very strong, but the Shadow breached it."

"But if we don't arrive in time, won't lord Elrond wait for us?"

Tinuhen bit his lip and leaned closer. "That is the problem, Legolas. You see - you must not tell anyone this. Everything about these meetings is very, very secret. Until this summer, mother and father did not know about them either, but Mith - Gandalf told them, because Gandalf thought they ought to be there." Tinuhen looked over his shoulder. "Gandalf did not tell anyone but Radagast about it, because then maybe they would stop us from joining. Lord Elrond will not be expecting us. Our hope is to turn up unexpectedly, so that they have no choice but to let me join. No one will be expecting us but Gandalf and Radagast, and Radagast will be here, and I dare not hope that Gandalf can persuade the others to wait."

"Who are the others?"

"That does not matter. Do you understand why we have to go on? Father would want us to. That was the last thing he told me, Legolas. Whatever happens, Tinuhen, you must reach Rivendell in time, he said. And I will."

Legolas bit his lip. "Then you can go on, and I can go back."

"I cannot spare enough warriors to give you a safe journey home."

"I'll go with Radagast!"

Tinuhen shook his head. "Radagast will ride much swifter if he hasn't got anyone else to mind. Legolas, listen to me, we have no choice but go on. You promised to help, did you not?"

Legolas looked from Tinuhen to Radagast and then up at Beren, but no one yielded. His eyes began to burn. He blinked hard and swallowed. "I did."

"I must go at once", Radagast said. "I will send you a message as soon as I know more."

"I wish you a safe journey", Tinuhen said.

"Wish me rather a swift one. Good luck, my prince."

A quaver rose from Legolas belly, up through his fluttering heart and into his throat, choking him. He shuddered. He was not going to cry.

Tinuhen reached out a hand for him. Then he hesitated and let it fall. Hethulin steered her horse past his and wrapped Legolas in her arms.

"It'll be alright, little leaf", she said and stroke his hair. "It'll all be fine."

The trees sighed mournfully, the stream whispered, and outside the shadow-wood a light snow began to fall; inside it, one by one, the snow-flakes found their way to the ground below the twisted branches.

* * *

As always, huge thanks to everyone who has commented, and to tumblr user queen-aragorn for proof-reading. Please leave a review, it means so much to me!


	6. Chapter 6

_Part of this chapter is rather gory and a bit graphic. Be careful if you're sensitive!_

* * *

**VI**

**Come What May**

When the guards carried her father into the Hall of Trees, Merilin knew that nothing would ever be the same.

She flew up from her chair and did not even notice that her embroidery fell from her lap. The floor was all wet from the snow that people had been dragging in from the courtyard - heaps of new-fallen snow, white and pure and quick to melt - the embroidery would be ruined. Merilin did not think about it, not for a moment.

"Make way!" the guards cried, and people turned and stared at them and the elf on the stretcher they carried. "Somebody alert the healers - get people down on the courtyard - we've got more wounded, get stretchers down there!"

"What happened?" Merilin asked hoarsely. "Where's my mother?"

"There was an attack, my lady", the guards said. "The Elvenqueen is still at the courtyard."

Merilin looked down at the elf on the stretcher. Blood stained his grey riding garb and the cloth of the makeshift stretcher. Sweat beaded his pale face. His hands were clenched into fists. His lips were bitten bloody.

It could not be her father. But when they carried him away, Merilin's stomach wrenched as if it was.

Elves milled into the Hall of Trees. Nibennel, who led the guard in Beren's abscense, shouted at them to return to whatever they had been doing or make themselves useful. Someone ran upstairs to the mending wing. Two more guards walked inside, supporting a third, who was bleeding badly from the shoulder. To the women at the high table, no one paid any attention.

Taith bent down and picked up the embroidery. Nelladell laid her hands on Merilin's shoulders and pressed her down in the chair.

"Worry not, Merilin, I am sure he will be all right."

"Did you not see him?"

"Merilin", said Taith calmly. "What was it we talked about again? Ah, yes, that fabric from Lothlorien. I wish we had more of the blue one."

"Fabric", said Merilin.

"Yes, the one with feathers."

"Taith, did you see my father? Did you see him? And he is the Elvenking! Yavanna watch over us - and where are his other guards? - how could anything - "

"Where are you going?"

"Stay here", Merilin said and stumbled down the dais.

They had chosen to sit in the Hall of Trees because it was pleasant to be around people, even if most people here at this time where those who tended the hall - no bold hunters or gallant palace guards - but now Merilin wished it had been all empty. The elves stared and whispered and she had to shove her way past them, down the stair.

Mother stood in the snowfall at the foot of the stair. She had blood down the side of her dress, and in her long unruly braids, and her leather jerkin was torn, though she had not taken it off. Galion stood with her, pale but calm, and held her weapons. Around them the courtyard was a mess of frightened horses, wounded guards and elves who tried to help them. People came down the stair with stretchers; someone was crying out a name, again and again, over a body that lay still on the ground.

"I saw father", Merilin said weakly. "What happened? Mother, what happened?"

"Go inside, Merilin."

"I want to know!"

Mother sighed. Galion walked up the stair and took Merilin by the arm.

"Easy now, my lady", Galion said, and only then did Merilin realize that she was shaking. She willed herself to stop, but her body did not obey.

"It was orcs", mother said. "From straight out of nowhere. It was by sheer luck we escaped, and the Elvenking - "

"But the trees! Why did the trees not warn you?"

"They couldn't. Something stopped them. Something..."

"What about father? He's wounded."

"He is, but not so badly."

"I saw him!"

"Merilin", Galion said. "Do not upset yourself. Thranduil was awake and conscious when we came through the Doors. We escaped narrowly, but we are all here now, and your father is up in the mending hall, and all will be fine. Let me take you inside.

Merilin was not strong enough to protest. She felt like she might go sick, but at the same time she felt like she was not there at all; like she was only watching another Merilin, who stumbled up the stairs with Galion took her hand.

Taith met them halfway, and took over.

"Just stay calm now, Merilin", she said and gathered her silk skirts as they walked over the snowy threshold. "Let us go to my chambers. Nelladell will be there in a minute. She will bring out embroideries-"

"I need to see father."

"Not now, Merilin, the menders must see to him first."

"I am not going to talk about fabrics", Merilin said. "I'm not."

"Then we won't talk about fabrics", said Taith and pulled Merilin through the Hall of Trees. They took the right tunnel, even though it was further away from Taith's chambers, because the left one led to the mending wing and was crowded with elves, wounded or helping wounded. The smell of blood seemed to seep through all the corridors. There was no escaping it.

"Orcs", Merilin said weakly. "But if the trees were silent - no, Taith, it must have been something more, something more than orcs. What if father..."

"Mind the steps there, Merilin, that's a good girl."

"Taith", Merilin said and leaned so heavily on her friend she was afraid that she would fall; but Taith was stronger than she looked. "I want to talk about fabrics."

"All right", Taith said. "That blue one from Lothlorien, remember? With feathers."

* * *

It was dark by the time Merilin was allowed to see father. Taith and Nelladell followed her to the mending wing, but it was so crowded in there they had to turn on the doorstep. Out of twenty-five guards no one was completely unharmed, though only seven were badly wounded. Two had not made it through the Doors. One they had lost in the afternoon.

"Your father's state is... stabile, at the moment", the mender said when he led her to her father's room. "He has not lost very much blood, and the wound should heal quickly enough. We found no signs of poison."

"Do you think I am blind?" Merilin snapped. "I saw him when they carried inside. That was not _stabile_."

The mender wrung his hands.

Merilin stopped dead, outside a room where a young warrior gritted her teeth as the menders set the bones in her broken leg.

"What is it you're not telling me?"

"No signs of poison", said the mender quietly, as if he was afraid to be overheard, "but something... something else. I cannot explain. Please come, my lady."

Father lay atop a large ash-wood bed - ash for strength, and swift recovery - under three thick wool blankets, and a fire roared and made the room so hot the windows glazed over. His eyes were closed. Merilin thought he looked old.

"Why is it so hot?" she asked. "Father is already sweating."

At that, mother lifted her head. She sat in a chair by father's side, still in her blood-stained riding dress. Her right hand was bandaged and she had a cut over her nose, but other than that she was unharmed.

"There you are. What took you so long?"

"The heat", Merilin said. "Is it really good?"

Mother lowered her gaze. She laid her good hand on top of father's, then looked up at Merilin. "The menders does not know what is wrong, Merilin, but father is not... not well."

Confusedly, Merilin walked over to the bed and moved to touch her father's hand; but she did not even need to touch him to feel the cold. Father was freezing. Sweat beaded his face, but he was so cold she shivered.

"What is this?"

"Sorcery", mother said. The mender began to protest, but mother shot him a dark look and said: "And what else would it be? Not poison, you say. Not fever. Not shock. So, sorcery."

"Sorcery", Merilin replied. "Can orcs..."

"Not as far as I know", mother said, and what she did not know about orcs, no one knew. "He was struck by an orc, but that, we believe, is the weapon it used. At least part of it."

She pointed to something on the bedside table. It was a sword-hilt - a fair piece, truly, with a black gem inlaid in silver vines at the pommel; but the silver was splotched black with age, and the gem shone dully in the glow of the oil-lamp. The blade was cut clean off, and nowhere to be seen.

"Do not touch it", mother said. "We do not know what it is."

"What happened to it?"

"I know not. I found it whole after the attack, but when I picked it up it simply drifted from her hand - like it was made of dust. This is all that is left."

Merilin shivered and turned her back on the sword-hilt; but even so she felt it watching her.

The mender left them, and Merilin sank down in an empty chair and felt like all her strength had left her. Mother twisted her bracelet around her wrist, round and round, and her eyes were as cold and sharp as arrowtips. Suddenly Merilin feared that she would do something dangerous, that she would ride for revenge, and it filled her with such terror she forgot how to breath. She forced herself to calm down. Mother was wiser than that.

"What are - what will - where are the orcs now?"

"I sent out elves to scout", mother replied wearily, "but I doubt they'll dare to come closer to the Mountain."

"Are there any elves still out there?"

"Only hunters, and I think they'll be fine. Then there are the elves by the Forest Road."

Merilin went cold. "And Tinuhen, mother. Tinuhen and Legolas!"

"Yes. We cannot do anything for them."

"They must be warned!"

"I have sent a message to Radagast. Hopefully it will reach him, but if we cannot trust the trees - "

"_Ai Elbereth!_ What if..."

"Merilin", mother said. "_What if_ is the last thing I want to hear."

They fell silent. The oil lamps glowed softly; the snow whirled past the window outside, slowly and quietly. Now and then father stirred, but he never once opened his eyes.

Mother picked up a damp cloth and pressed it gently to father's forehead, sucking up the beads of sweat that shimmered in his eyebrows. He was so pale. One could almost see right through him.

"We will hold a council", mother said. "We must know how those orcs could come so close to us, and what exactly this wound is. Merilin, now that both father and Tinuhen is gone, you need to take more responsibility. You must be brave now, for Greenwood."

"I am not brave."

"You must be", mother said. "We all must." She laid the cloth aside and fixed her gaze on Merilin. "Greenwood needs our strength. These are dark times. I want you to be prepared, for there will be no room for hesitation once the council is due. This may be over quickly, or it may be the start of a war. You must be prepared for either."

"Uh..."

"Come now. You're more than half a millennia old. Did you expect you'd never go to war?"

"Is that so much to ask for?"

Mother softened. She must be half-mad with worry, Merilin thought; mother never was stern.

"We're in Greenwood", she said, "in the Wild. There is no room for fear here. We're fighters, hey? So are you, deep down. I'm sure of it."

"I don't want to be one."

Mother sighed and turned away. Father moaned in his sleep, drew his eyebrows together in pain or fear.

Nothing would ever be the same. Or maybe it had always been like this, cruel and dark and frightening, and the world were fabrics and ribbons and shoes mattered had never truly existed.

* * *

The snowfall thickened, though down in the shadow-wood only a little part of it found its way to the ground. At first, they rode on like there was no snow, all anxious and tense, but after a while they started to find joy in it. When they stopped to pitch a camp, Beren had to roar at some of the guards to stop them from shoving snow down each other's collars. Legolas wished they could have went on, because he preferred watching them to thinking about father, wounded and maybe poisoned, or something else.

The message from Radagast did not arrive that night, nor the day after.

"It takes time to get to the Mountain", Beren said. "Remember we've been travelling for eleven days now. Radagast won't even be halfway yet."

"He's a wizard!"

"So he is, but can he fly for that? No. You wait and see, little leaf. We will hear from Radagast in time."

The next night they slept in another elven settlement, and the elves there told them some about the shadow-wood. Before it breached the border, they had sometimes ventured into the Shadow to hunt or gather wood.

"Trust nothing", they said, "not your eyes, not your ears, not even your fingers. And don't stray from the road. You may think you'll find it again, but you take five steps away from it, and you could as well have walked for half a mile."

"What is that?" Hethulin asked suddenly and pointed into the dark.

"Ghost!" Legolas said, and it truly looked like one. It was white and gauzy, shimmering in the torch-light, and as broad as Legolas' arms outstretched. The travellers stared at it wide-eyed.

The elves of the shadow-wood bared their teeth. Then one took an arrow from his belt, bound a bundle of hay and cloth around it that he'd had ready in his belt pouch, and lit it on his torch. The fire arrow hit the white veil, and it blazed up and was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Spider web", the elves of the shadow-wood said.

"No way!" said Maidh. "It was too large!"

The elves of the shadow-wood curled their lips in eerie non-smiles.

"Spider webs. You believe it, or you let them kill you."

The settlement had a lot of supplies, and gladly shared it with the travellers - at least they seemed to do it gladly, though it was hard to tell, because they were very sparse with words and smiles.

The next night the travellers camped by a stream that babbled eerily beside them all night as if it laughed at some secret of its own, and it made them so uneasy they drank up half their mead before they went to sleep. Sometime after midnight, Legolas woke because his bladder told him that _ai elbereth it's an emergency hurry up! _and he could didn't dare to ignore it.

He sat up, quiet as quiet, in the light of the small lantern they kept burning through the nights - it would have been too dark to see anything at all otherwise. But Hethulin slept very lightly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I just need to, uh..."

"I told you not to drink so much mead", Hethulin whispered. "It's not safe out there. Let one of the sentinels follow you."

Legolas groaned.

"Come now, it's not like they're going to look."

"Then it doesn't matter if they follow me, does it? Please, Hethulin, I won't go far. I'll stay in sight of the camp. We've been here for days and nothing's happened!"

"Your brother gave severe orders..."

Legolas sighed. Hethulin rarely took Tinuhen's orders very seriously, but this time she seemed to agree with them.

"Fine. I'll tell one of the sentinels exactly where I'm going, and I'll stay in sight of the camp, and if I'm not back in five minutes you can all go and search for me. Please? I just need to be one my own for a moment. Tinuhen's been on me all the time."

Hethulin sighed. She gave him a glance that very clearly said he had himself to blame, but at the same time she seemed to take pity on him. It was not like Tinuhen was ever in a good mood around Legolas, whether his little brother had done anything or not.

"Very well", she said finally. "Five minutes and no more. I will know it if you don't obey."

Legolas swept himself in his cloak and crawled out of the tent. The stream babbled on somewhere in the dark. When he looked up he could see no difference between branches and sky above his head, expect where the sparks from the fire rose towards it, born on a harsh north wind.

"To that tree and no further", one of the sentinels said and pointed into the dark.

"I promise", Legolas said, having no idea of what tree it was.

He felt a slight tinge of fear when the fire was behind him and darkness wrapped its arms around him, and he hesitated, thinking that maybe he should ask someone to follow him anyway, or perhaps he should just go back into the tent and try to sleep. But pride and his bladder won over his fear of the dark. He walked into the forest like an adventurer into a dragon's lair.

It was when he was on the way back he saw it.

First he thought it was a ghost, or one of those giant spider webs, and he pressed his back to the tree and dared not breath. But it was not a ghost. It was a stag, a small stag whiter than the snow.

Legolas inhaled slowly.

The stag had been as frightened of him as he had been of it. It stood wide-eyed and statue-still with one slender foot in the air and the others lightly touching the moss. Then it set the foot down. A dry leaf shifted under it. The stag blinked once and inclined his head, as if it wanted to say something.

"What do you want?"

The stag turned and walked through a stand of bushes, very slowly. It stopped on the other side and looked back at him.

"Do you want me to follow?"

Legolas glanced towards the camp. Five minutes could not have passed yet. He looked at the trees; they swayed peacefully in a breeze, as if there was nothing dangerous to be found for miles. When he looked at the deer, Legolas felt that it was not evil.

"I'm coming", he whispered and went after it.

They moved soundlessly over leaves and snow, in and out of the trees. Frost-tinted ferns stroke against Legolas' bare legs, and wet leaves clung to the soles of his feet. A thorny branch caught his cloak. The stag waited patiently a few paces away while he freed it.

Another stream came floating through the ferns, carrying a sick smell like water that has been still for long. The stag jumped; Legolas hesitated by the brink before he dared to leap after it. His left foot sank into wet mud with a gurgling splash that rang loud and sharp through the forest.

He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone seemed to have heard. There was only darkness. The camp-fire was long gone behind him.

He suddenly felt very small.

"Is it far now?" he asked the stag, and even his voice sounded tiny in the great silence of the forest night. In answer, the stag inclined its graceful head towards the bushes on top of the brink. Glad he would be able to go back soon, Legolas hurried towards it.

He staggered back with a cry.

Something lay dead behind the thorny bushes. Long dead.

It had once been a horse.

Legolas felt his stomach turn, but nothing came up. Flies lifted in a buzzing swarm from the dead horse and under them, white and glistening, worms crawled on top of each other through the rotting flesh and over white bones. The horse's tangled mane was spread out like a fan over the leaves. It seemed to look at him with one worm-eaten eye.

Legolas swallowed. He shut his eyes tight.

Then he opened them again and warily looked around. Bodies attracted predators. Mother had told him countless times never to approach without being prepared. But he heard and saw nothing, and the trees were still calm.

The stag walked around the dead horse, looked at something on the ground behind it, and looked back up at Legolas.

Legolas wanted to run back to the camp and never think of this again, but he could not do that, not if the stag had brought him here for a reason. Without looking at the horse, without wondering what its name was or where it came from or it it had other horse friends somewhere that missed it now, Legolas walked after the stag.

Something lay on the ground partly under the horse, and this time Legolas did vomit.

The elf lay on its belly, with his head turned to the side, and his arms brought up as if to ease a hard landing. Legolas saw empty eye sockets and a half-eaten jaw; eggs about to hatch in the side of the face that rested on the ground. He saw snowy white tresses glowing almost as white as the stag, and a leather strap painstakingly embroidered with red and blue thread about to slip off the rotting brow. The elf's legs were stuck beneath the horse. Two arrows potruded from his back.

And Legolas knew who it was. That snowy hair could not be mistaken.

He looked at the stag.

"Take me back to the camp. My brother must see this. Hurry!"

It set off, Legolas dashing after it through the dark. He wanted to wake up and see it was all a dream, or to crawl back into the tent and pretrend it had never happened, but he knew what he had to do. When the fire emerged from the dark the stag stood to the side and Legolas went on without it. People were calling over at the camp. Tinuhen was just coming out of his tent.

"Tinuhen! There's something you must - "

Beren grabbed him by the elbow. "Yavanna have pity on you, child, where have you been? Did you not promise - "

"I know", Legolas tried, "but there's something - "

"I thought you had more sense", Beren said and shook him. "After everything you have heard, everything you have seen, everything you have been taught - "

"I know!" Legolas said. "I didn't mean to make anyone worried! Look, I've found something, something very important and you have to come with me..."

"The only thing I have to do is make sure you get into your tent and stay there", Beren hissed. "To think that you..."

"I've found Tuiw!"

Beren went quiet. Everybody did.

"I've found Tuiw", Legolas said again. "He's dead."

It took all of Beren's authority to keep the camp calm after that. Everyone wanted to see for themselves, but Beren decided that only him, Tinuhen, and four warriors would follow Legolas back to the body, and the rest would stay in camp, ready to depart or fight or whatever orders they might recieve.

They brought several torches, and the stag kept well away from them, weaving in and out of the trees. Now and then its eyes glinted in the light. Mists rose from the stream and hid the shape of the dead horse even from the torch-light.

"There", Legolas said and pointed. He did not want see it again.

Hethulin squeezed his shoulder before she left him to look at the body. He heard her gasp. He sank down in the damp grass, pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to stop shivering.

"This is the proof", he heard Tinuhen say, though even his brother sounded smaller than usual. "It's the proof, Beren! The arrows! Tuiw was murdered - someone knew Tuiw was taking Mithrandir's message to the Elven King and Queen, and -"

"My prince", Beren said hastily. "Not here."

The elves talked a while in low voices, and at last Tinuhen and Beren agreed to send two riders back to the nearest settlement, and from there send a message with a bird, since the birds of the shadow-wood were friends with the elves there. One of the warriors wanted Tuiw to be sent back to the Mountain, because he and Tuiw had known each other, and he didn't want to leave him here, but Beren said they could not spare enough warriors for a safe journey back. He would not let the elf cover Tuiw with his cloak either. They'd need the cloaks, he said, but they could spare a blanket. Then he ordered them all to go back.

Legolas wanted to ask what the arrows were proof for and what they meant, and he was thinking that maybe he could say that since he had found Tuiw he had a right to know - but when they got back to camp Tinuhen gave him a glance that very clearly said he should ask absolutely nothing at all for the whole night, and maybe not for the rest of the week, and preferably not ever in his life either.

"You", he said, "will go straight to your tent and stay there until I say you can leave, and if I hear anything more of you sneaking away - "

"It was the stag! If I had not followed it - "

"You could have been killed!" Tinuhen burst out. "You could have ended up like Tuiw! Or you could have got lost, and have all of us risk our lives searching for you in the dark. I have told you since we started this journey - mother and father has told you to do as I say and never ever stray from the camp! Don't you care what they say? Do you think you know better?"

"But the stag..."

Tinuhen slapped him.

Then he seemed shocked he had done it. He stood with his hand in the air as if it stung, and Legolas hoped it did.

"This isn't the Greenwood you're used to", he said. "You knew nothing about that deer. There are dark things in this forest and they're not always literary dark, do you understand? It could have been something evil..."

Legolas rubbed his cheek and glared at Tinuhen. "It wasn't. I knew it wasn't, I could sense it!"

"And of course your senses cannot be wrong? If you sense anything it must be right, must it?"

"I'm a wood-elf..."

"I'll tell you what you are", Tinuhen said. "You're a foolish, spoilt child and you think you know everything about Greenwood because Ninniach thought you were like mother, but you know nothing - nothing of the Shadow, nothing of the trees, nothing of the world. If you don't learn that soon, this journey will be the end of you."

* * *

Tinuhen u meanie D:

Thank you all for reading - I know you're there even if you don't say it! If you like the story or have any ideas as to how I could improve it, or if you just want to say hi, please review :)


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

**Open Sky**

Legolas spent that miserable night alone in the tent, while the others sat outside and talked until dawn broke. Then Beren sent two riders away to the nearest elven settlement, and the others waited in the camp until they returned by noon. The elves of the shadow-wood would take care of Tuiw's body, they said, and if possible they would send word to the Mountain. But the trees were unusually quiet and the birds were anxious. The shadow-wood elves didn't know why, but they didn't like it.

It was almost noon when they set off and Legolas had not spoken a single word all day, but before they left the camp he turned to Tinuhen, because there was something he had to know.

"Did you give Tuiw a blanket?"

Tinuhen did not even turn to look at him, but he nodded shortly.

"What about his horse?"

"No."

That seemed unfair. Against better knowledge, Legolas begun to ask why - but Hethulin pulled him aside and whispered:

"It's getting cold and we can't spare too many blankets. The horse will be fine. It doesn't need blankets where it is now."

As they rode away, a light snow fell, and Legolas stared at Amlûg's neck and tried to find comfort in the familiar rise and fall of his steps. There was nothing else he could do. Neither lunchtime nor afternoon nor evening would make Tinuhen any less angry with him or the rest of the company any happier. Tuiw's death had taken what little optimism they had left after Radagast's tidings. Not even Maidh had told a joke since last night.

When they stopped to camp that night, the snow had turned to a drizzle and then frozen to hail, and it took over half an hour to get a fire burning steadily. The trees here consisted mostly of spruce and provided little shelter, so everyone who could crawled into their tents and huddled at the openings so they could speak to each other, while the cooks and sentinels eyed them with envy. Tinuhen was still angry and Legolas could not stand to be near him, so he helped rubbing the horses down and then he stayed with Amlûg while the hail drummed on the hood of his cloak and the grey of the forest slowly turned to black again. At least Amlûg was not angry, and not miserable either. He was warm and calm and homely and if there was one thing that was good with this journey it was that Legolas had come to know him better, because he had never been very fond of riding before.

When they ate - porridge this time; Beren wanted to spare their last bread and meat before they got to the mountains - Tinuhen said that this would be their last night in the forest. Legolas dared to ask what would come next. Tinuhen actually smiled at him.

"Nothing you have ever seen before", he said. "And if I described it to you you would not understand."

"The Misty Mountains?"

"You will see", was all Tinuhen would say.

Legolas could not sleep that night. He thought about Lake-town and what it had looked like, but all around the shore there had been plenty of trees, or fields surrounded by trees, or at least by grooves and copses and large bushes. The Lonely Mountain had been visible, pale blue against the horizon, but they had not gone near it.

But if they neared the Misty Mountains, they would soon get out of the forest - and he had never paid enough attention to his geography lessons to remember what came next. He thought it might be a place without trees. As he lay in the tent and looked up at the dark hide roof, Legolas tried to picture a place without trees - but he could not imagine it. He dreamt that he walked in a desert, but the next morning he had forgotten what it looked like.

The following day they left earlier than usual. Everyone was excited to see the end of the forest, though all in their own way - Hethulin was nervous, Tulus tense and quiet, Naru beaming with apprehension and Tinuhen excited but reserved. When they stopped briefly for lunch, all were deep in their own thoughts.

Hours later, a spot of light appeared in front of them, and it was not the light of a fire, and it was not just a ray of sunlight on the road.

Legolas reined Amlûg in. "Is that..."

"It is", Tinuhen said. "The edge of Greenwood the Great."

Legolas wanted to set off towards in in a gallopp, and he wanted to turn back the way he had come. Tinuhen took Amlûgs reins and said: "Easy now, we're not there yet."

The spot of light grew larger as they rode. Once the road bent and the light vanished between the trees; then it appeared again, much closer. It took the shape of an uneven arch, framed with naked branches. Something moved behind it; tall winter grasses tinted with frost. The ground billowed up and down in hills and valleys. A wind blew strong over the pale lands.

Legolas stopped, heart pounding. Suddenly there was grass beneath him, and sky above. The grass - it stretched as far as he could see, rising and falling and waving in the wind, and there were dry flower-stalks in it and some bushes but no trees, not a single tree, just grass and grass and grass. Where it vanished, something blue and massive loomed, not the sky, but mountains, larger than anything he could have imagined.

And the sky - _Elbereth_, he had never thought the sky could look so big and so far away. Pale wintry blue it started down by a distant horizon to the north, and arched over Greenwood and ended so far south Legolas hardly dared to think about it. He got dizzy only from looking up. But looking forward was not much better; there was so much nothing, so much empty space with no tree-voices and no branches and no life. He would never go out there. No one could make him go out there. There was nowhere to hide.

"Impressive, is it not?" Tinuhen said. He had stayed with Legolas and a couple of other elves in the forest edge - some of them had never seen this either. "To think some people live here."

"They do?"

"Of course! Men live anywhere there is space. There used to be more of them though, before they moved south. Come along now. You cannot stand here all day."

Legolas did not move.

"Come on", Tinuhen said, "you have not even been out there yet."

"I don't want to be out there!"

"You are like a caterpillar", said Tinuhen, "who does not want to get out of your cocoon. Do you not think they feel just like this? The cocoon is safe and they want to stay there. But they have to leave it, and when they do, they find that the world outside is a wonderful place, and not as scary as it may seem at first."

"I'm not a caterpillar", Legolas protested. "And Greenwood's not a cocoon."

Before Tinuhen could answer, Maidh rode up behind them, glowing with excitement.

"Finally!" he said. "Come, my princes, lets race down the hill!"

"You go", Tinuhen said. "My brother needs some coercion yet."

"Wait for me, Maidh!" Hethulin cried, gathering her courage, and they leaned forward over their horses' necks and set off into the blinding light, hollering with joy as the wind caught them. Amlûg side-stepped eagerly, his muscles taunt and shivering. Legolas took a deep breath. Then, without thinking, he whispered: _run!_

And Amlûg ran. No, he flew. The forest disappeared and the grass became a yellow blur and Amlûg flew through it, stretched his body out, lengthened his stride, rushed down the hill and onto the next faster than an arrow. There were no trees to dodge, no branches to duck for; nothing, nothing, nothing, expect for the wind that made Legolas' eyes water and caught his hair and stuffed his laughter back into his mouth. He leaned over Amlûgs neck and hid his face in his mane and screamed with joy and fear.

But he forgot about the fear then, when they came over the ridge of the second hill and saw the fields of grass before them again, and the sky, even greater now that they had left the forest behind. Birds crossed it, swift and strong-winged. The dead flower-stalks rustled softly against each other, remembering summers past when the hills bloomed and bees buzzed in the thorn bushes. This was not nothing. It was not Greenwood, but it was _something_, and there was life.

Legolas reined Amlûg in on top of the hill and let him catch his breath. Maidh and Hethulin and some others were already far ahead, but he wanted to stay and look because he could see to the end of the world from here. Tinuhen soon caught up with him. Even he was flushed from the ride and he was smiling.

"Well", he said, "what did I say?"

Legolas grinned at him devilishly. "You said I was a caterpillar. You were wrong."

Then he let Amlûg decide the pace again, and they raced down the hill with Tinuhen close behind, into the valley, and to the west.

* * *

The long journey had taken its toll on both elves and horses, so Tinuhen decided they should stay in the forest edge for the rest of the day, and set off the next morning.

They rode some ways north, not more than a mile, and found the very edge of the Shadow. Deep and dark the forest loomed behind them; grey and sad, but not entirely quiet, stood the trees where they set up camp. But they still had their voices, and the elves spent half the day walking the grasslands and admiring the view, and half the day under the trees, taking farewell. They kept to themselves, excited and sad at the same time.

Evening came - not the swift, pitch-black evening of the shadow-wood, but a sunset that turned the grasslands to gold and set the Misty Mountains on fire. When the shadows were long over the grasslands and the warmth had gone out of the air, Beren and Tinuhen gathered them around the fire.

"We have been on the road now for eighteen days", Tinuhen said. "If we are lucky, we have only three left."

A long silence followed those words. After all the time they had spent travelling it felt strange to be so near the end.

"That means we are almost a month ahead of our time", Tinuhen went on, "but we could not have predicted that the journey would run so smoothly all the time."

"We still cannot", said Beren. "Three days, at the least, is what it will take us to travel the High Pass, but if the snows have been too heavy in the mountains we will have to turn south for the Dimrill Stair, or even the Redhorn Pass. That is a long road."

"Isn't the Redhorn Pass where lady Celebrían was assaulted?" Hethulin asked.

"It is, and though it is safer now than two years ago we will only take that road if we have no other choice. There is another pass as well - but we will discuss that if the need arises."

Tinuhen nodded. "When we reach the mountains - tomorrow - there will be no fooling around or loitering and no... straying from camp." He looked at everyone when he said it, but Legolas knew it was aimed at him. "What we have been through until now is nothing compared to the mountains. It is not only the snow and the terrain, it is also orcs and goblins and wargs - and the giants."

"Really, my prince", Hethulin said, "do you think we can't manage the mountains? I think we handled ourselves perfectly well in the shadow-wood."

The other warriors began to agree, but Beren said: "Did you? Really?" Something in his tone made them all fall silent.

"I had to tell you over and over again to never go in smaller groups than five if you needed to leave camp", Beren went on. " You fell asleep on your watches, neglected your weapons, and lit fires even when it was not safe. Hethulin let Legolas leave his tent against strict orders. Tulus wasted all his arrows on squirrells. Not more than five minutes after we saw a spider web, Maidh was about to _leave the path_ to chase after a deer."

Everyone was too shocked to speak, and stared at the ground or in their laps. Even Tinuhen looked worried that Beren might say something about him - but he didn't, of course, because Tinuhen always followed the rules.

"It is just as well you face it", Beren said. "You only made it because nothing actually happened. You are all untried and inexperienced, and you have behaved as if you had no concern at all for your lives or our mission. When we reach the mountains, there must be a change. If you let your guard down even for a moment, that might be the end of us all."

The elves remained silent. If Beren had been angry and roared, like Tinuhen had done a hundred times, it would have been another thing - but he was only disappointed, because he had expected more.

Beren looked from on elf to the other, waiting until they had looked back up at him before he turned to the next. Then he said: "There was something else you wanted to say, Tinuhen?"

"Ah... um... yes. Rivendell", Tinuhen said. "Most of you have not been there before, and you will find it quite different from Greenwood. The Noldor will welcome us, of course, and they know how different our customs are, but nevertheless you must pay attention and do as they do. There are several things you need to know before we get there."

The wood-elves frowned and shifted impatiently. No one dared to say anything after what Beren had said, but no one truly listened either. Legolas yawned. The sun was gone, and he had not had much sleep the night before.

Tinuhen droned on about formalities and finery while their dinner cooked over the fire. Suddenly there was a whoosh of wings and as Legolas looked up, a bird of prey circled them, black against the darkening sky.

"It's a sparrowhawk!"

"Do not interrupt me", Tinuhen snapped, but he looked up as well. The sparrowhawk swooped down to sit on a low branch just behind Maidh.

"Whoa! Good eve to you", Maidh said. "Did you want something?"

The sparrowhawk cocked its head to the side, blinked with its large black eyes, and nodded. "Has message from Ragast, yes!" It spoke differently from the birds at home.. "Important message for elf!"

"From Radagast?" Tinuhen said. "Why, then, let us hear!"

Hethulin stretched out her arm so the sparrowhawk could sit down on it, with its claws digging into her bracer.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The sparrowhawk fluffed its feathers importantly. "Is swift to fly, yes, so Quick-wing is name. Now, message. Ragast says, elf not dead, so elves must go on, not worry, Ragast not here yet. You understand?"

"Um", said Hethulin.

"Would you mind take that again, a bit slower?" said Tinuhen.

"Elf-king", Quick-wing said. "You know elf-king in big cave, yes?"

"I know him, he's my father!" Legolas said. "It's not a cave, though."

Quick-wing turned to him. "Then little elf not to worry. Elf-king not dead, but can't fly, no, strange sickness, strange magicks. Ragast try help, then come after little elf. You understand now?"

"I believe I do", said Tinuhen slowly. "The Elvenking is sick, but he's alive, at least. And Radagast says we should go on? Not wait or him?"

"Not wait, no. Must be in time. Quick-wing must fly back to tell you here. You understand?"

"Very well. Then we will go on as planned, and you will tell Radagast that. Are you tired, Quick-wing? We shall get you some food."

Quick-wing spread his wings and sailed down to the ground. The elf nearest the food-wagon brought him some dried meat to him, and another poured the contents of a waterskin into a small bowl. Quick-wing looked up at Tinuhen again.

"Elf-queen says to remind, be cautious. Someone in valley cannot be trusted, yes?"

"Valar, yes!" Tinuhen said. "That reminds me. I was going to tell you all that."

"What?" Legolas said.

Tinuhen waited until everyone paid attention.

"The Elven King and Queen has long suspected there might be someone in Rivendell, or at least someone closely tied to it, that cannot be trusted", he said. "A traitor to all elves and good folk. It has been very difficult to send messages to lord Elrond, and the message Tuiw would have carried was stopped as well."

"Stopped?" Hethulin said. "You mean that was why..."

"We do not know", said Beren before Tinuhen could speak, "and we do not wish to speculate too much, but we must be preapared for anything."

"I don't understand", Legolas said.

"All you have to know", said Tinuhen, "is that we must be very catious when we are in Rivendell. There may be a traitor there, and there may be more than one. This is why we're not travelling, officially, as the princes of Greenwood. We won't hide in Rivendell, of course, but that only means we have to be more careful."

"Indeed", said Beren gravely. "I'm not saying you should not trust the Noldor..."

"We won't, though", said Maidh, "so no worries."

Beren scowled at him. "Very well then. But Tuiw gave his life for Greenwood, and I won't have you waste that away by acting like irresponsible children. I hope I have made myself clear."

* * *

When they woke the next morning, the world was changed. Where before there had been grassland, there was now only snow; hills of snow, valleys of snow, and snow-triangles with some pine needles sticking out of them.

They left Greenwood behind and rode down the first hill in a long line. Then they rode up the next, and down in a valley, and onto another hill; and before they knew it, Greenwood was far behind, a darkening line at the horizon that slowly faded to blue. Soon they came to the river Anduin and rode over the ford.

When they came closer to the mountains, their feet turned from hazy blue to grey, and soon the elves could make out trees growing on the slopes, and the clefts and ridges higher up; but where the scarce woods ended the grey became blue again. Not even half-way up, the mountains were shrouded in clouds. Their peaks were hidden from view.

"Look up!" Hethulin said, and they tilted their heads back.

"It's an eagle", Beren said. "It's flying rather low."

"It's not low", said Hethulin. "It's just at level with that cliff up there, see?"

The elves squinted, then drew their breaths.

"That's impossible!"

"I never thought they'd be that big!"

The eagle wheeled round and came to hover, barely moving its great golden wings, far above them. Its shadow covered them all, from Tinuhen at the front to Laeros' wagon at the rear.

"Great Eagle", said Hethulin, awed. "The Kings of every bird in Middle Earth."

"That must be a good sign", said Tinuhen. "They are watching over us."

Not long after that Legolas looked back, and though he had barely noted it was up they went, the grasslands were already below them. Ahead of him the ground sloped up to a climbing forest, up and up and up to where the earth met the sky.

They had come to the feet of the Misty Mountains.

* * *

Thranduil walked through dark dreams. He stood on the plain of Dagorlad and dead elves rose from the earth and asked why he had left him there, had he forgotten, were they not his friends?

The trees around him twisted and burnt, crumbling into ashes. The telain hung from dead branches and the orcs from the Black Lands set them afire, felled the mighty oaks and the graceful beeches, and the streams flowed red with blood. The elves that had died outside the Black Gates looked on and asked, was this what we died for? For you to leave our land to die, for you to fail?

No it wasn't, Thranduil tried to say, but his father turned away and Thranduil saw, again, the orcs pull him from his horse into the dust and the scimitars rise and fall. He tried to reach him but again he was too late, and now father was gone and the orcs and the trees and Thranduil walked alone through the dark. He walked over ashes and embers and the fire ate his face away.

And then he was not alone. In the dark something - a sentient - looked at him and laughed at his littleness. Look at you, it said, look at you Thranduil Elvenking. You are the last king. None shall come after you. None shall remember you.

Come to me, the voice said. If you helped me, I would grant you great power. Your realm would be fair again. Your people would not have to suffer.

You fool, his father said, you utter useless fool. Do what he says and save us.

Thranduil wavered, alone again in the dark.

* * *

Fairly short chapter this time, but the next will be longer. And oh it's just _beginning_ to get exciting ;)

Thank you for reading this far - there's not a lot of you but I appreciate each and every one!


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

**The Misty Mountains**

Merilin paced the corridor outside her father's room until it felt so small she could not breath in it. Taith walked with her, an ubreakable ash in the storm.

"Where is Nelladell?"

"Training the younglings, now that Faerdis is injured."

Merilin sighed. "I do not see why we should prepare for war. All we will do is to flee again, itsn't it?"

"I believe so", said Taith, "but we should not be unprepared either. Has your mother talked about fleeing?"

"She does not want to leave the Mountain. It is a stronghold, after all. But if the Shadow comes, we cannot stay here anyway, can we?"

"The Shadow is not here yet", Taith said.

They came to the end of the tunnel, turned, and went back. Now and then the sun found a gap in the clouds and shone through the narrow windows. It had melted some of the snow away, but the night frost kept the ground cool enough for most of it to remain. It was not enough for building forts on the courtyard yet. Merilin wondered if anyone would build snow forts this winter.

The door on top of the stair opened. "My lady? You can come inside."

On mother's orders, father had been moved from the healing ward to the comfort of his own room. That meant mother now slept in a chair beside him, or on the couch in the parlour. When she slept. Merilin did not think she did that very much at all.

Now she sat in the chair to father's right, and Radagast sat beside her with his staff leaning to the mantlepiece. Even in the hall of the wood-elves he looked too much like the forest - as if he had spent a hundred years under a turf of grass, then stood up and walked away without bothering to brush himself off. Merilin had all the correct pleasantries on her tongue - how nice to see you, how are you, did you have a good journey - but Radagast had never been one for pleasantries.

"Merilin", he said. "These are grave times. Thranduil is strong, but I cannot wake him, and I don't know if he can wake on his own."

Merilin nodded, forcing herself to stay calm. She looked over to father, still pale and unmoving under his blankets. He pulled back his cracked lips to bare his gritted teeth. His hands, clenched on top of his chest, had left damp stains of sweat on the blankets.

"What is wrong with him?"

"Hard to tell. I believe his fëa, his spirit, is trapped, and I cannot free him. His own mind keeps him hostage, but his mind is infected by whatever power that sword had. Maybe it will go away with time, and maybe someone must free him, yet I do not have the power. I know only one who has."

"Then shall we send him in a wagon after Laeros?" Merilin asked bitterly. "Or what are we to do? How much time... I mean..."

"He will hold out", mother said. "He will, until we have thought of something."

Merilin picked a small birch leaf from the cover that must have fallen from Radagast's robe. It lay in her palm, yellow and dry with spindly veins.

She crushed it to dust between her fingers. "What will you do, Radagast? You cannot be late for the Council."

"I can ride very swiftly on my own, and take short-cuts wherever it is possible. I shall stay with you for some days more."

"Good", mother said. "We will have a meeting soon, and..."

Merilin turned to her father. Though she knew she would be on that meeting too, it did not seem very important, because she would never be able to provide anything anyway. She knew nothing of wars, or fighting, or orcs, or anything whatsoever that would be useful to them. They would not want her opinion.

If only I was like lady Arwen, she thought. She is brave and beautiful and wise and everything.

But Arwen had lost her mother. No, Merilin did not want to be like her at all.

* * *

The road became a path that became a narrow track, only partly visible beneath pine needles and drifts of snow. It led them up the steep northern side of a valley, away from the quiet, wind-blown trees and in between bare cliffs so high they blocked out the sun.

"Are there orcs in the mountains?" Legolas asked. Pines no larger than shrubbery clung to narrow ledges and cracks in the stone. Rocks were littered all over the ground.

"And goblins", said Beren. "No one can tell for sure how many, for they hide deep in the mountains and can stay there for years if it is unsafe outside. But the rangers and lord Elrond have kept them from the roads for the past years. If there are goblins, they will be higher up."

Legolas looked up and around. Something lay half hidden hidden behind a rock; a cauldron, old and rusted to pieces. He wondered who might have left it there - and why.

"But it's winter now", he said thoughtfully, "and maybe the goblins are out of supplies, because they haven't been able to gather so much during the year, with lord Elrond and the rangers around. What if they are desperate and attack us for our supplies - you know, like wolves may attack an elk when they arestarving?"

Beren lifted an eyebrow. "That's good thinking, and you are quite right. We must be alert. But it is early in the winter and goblins are not known for their foresight. Like wolves don't go for elks until it is a matter of life and death, goblins won't risk an attack on such a large company as ours until it is their only option."

"Are we such a large company to the goblins?"

"We are, because we are well equipped and they are most likely not."

"So if we return late in winter or early in spring, then we must be even more careful? Because that's when they will be starving, and they'll know we've just set out from Rivendell and that our supplies are still full - and maybe we'll be slower, too, with the wagons so heavy..."

Beren smiled. "Right again. You learn quickly."

"I do? Tinuhen says..."

"Tinuhen", Beren said and glanced towards the crown prince, who had ridden ahead of the others along with an elf who knew the mountains. "Tinuhen says an awful lot of things, but, though I don't want to speak ill of him, not all of them are true. Your brother doesn't think you fit to be a commander - he doesn't think you are clever enough, or that you have the authority needed - but I think you are. You have an understanding of how things and people work that Tinuhen doesn't have, Legolas. You see much and you remember it. Authority will come with time. I think you will make a fine commander, one day."

"Really?" Legolas said and felt like he had just been crowned king over all of Middle Earth.

"Really", Beren said almost gravely. "We don't have many scouts in Greenwood these days, expect for our hunters - but if we ever have need for them again I could see you as one, leading archers and skirmishers through trees and shadows, spying on the enemy. That is something Tinuhen could never do."

"I am good at archery!"

"I know, and you can become even better with some practice." Beren beamed at him. "It takes hard training, of course, to be a scout, and even more to be a commander. Tinuhen thinks you aren't determinded enough to remain dedicated when things go against you. You could show him though, couldn't you?"

"I could show him that books aren't everything", Legolas said. "Some things you can only learn from hard work, and some things only the trees can tell you, and only if you listen closely. And I could show him I'll be the best scout Greenwood ever had!"

"I'm sure you will", Beren said. Then Tinuhen returned, and they spoke no more of it.

The road took them high above the valley, and the cliffs surrounding it gave way. To the right the ground sloped steeply down to the foothills, and to the left jarred ridges and broken peaks rose towards the clouds; they could not see where the mountains ended. As they rode on, the sun came out to shine on them. Soon they had to take off their cloaks.

"I think the Misty Mountains are smiling at us", Tinuhen said.

"Let us hope it is not with scorn", said Beren. He had become very quiet.

"Hey!" Naru called suddenly. "Look back!"

The elves turned to look the way they had come, and drew their breaths in unison. The view was clear enough behind them that they could see not only the narrow valley and the clinging forest, not only the foothills and the fields and the river, but Greenwood - naught more than a dark blue line by the horizon. Homesickness caught them. The journey through the forest had taken so long, and now it vanished as swiftly as a leaf down a waterfall.

Legolas steered Amlûg close to the edge and leaned forward, straining to see as far as possible. Beren grabbed the back of his tunic.

"If you fall down there", he said, pointing over the edge and down the deadly fall to the foothills, "we won't find you in one piece. Look ahead."

Afternoon turned to dusk. The last of the way they had to light torches and move slowly along the treacherous path, but eventually the cliffs rose to their right, the ground leveled and they came to a narrow plateau sheltered from the northern wind. But when Beren was about to give the order to set up camp, his voice faltered.

They weren't alone.

A small fire glowed in the dark across the plateau, and shadowy people could be seen sitting around it, or walking between the dark shapes of a number of tents. The fire was flickering and wavering violently. Whoever had lit it had neglected the shelter of the mountainside and set up camp at the far end of the plateau where the cliffs surrounding it were too low to be any protection from the northern wind.

"Maybe they're trolls", Legolas suggested. "They're not so smart, are they?"

"Hardly believable. They are pragmatical", Tinuhen said, as if that settled the matter.

"What's that?"

"They may not be great at chess", Beren explained, "but they know and feel the difference between shelter and no shelter. They are, of course, very hardy. Perhaps they thought that place gave enough shelter."

"They're too small to be trolls", Hethulin said. "And I'd say they move more like elves than orcs. Maybe they're from Rivendell."

"What would they be doing out here, though?" Maidh asked. "The noldor never leave their valley."

"Maybe they're lost", Hethulin said. Tinuhen sent both her and Maidh a withering glance, but they were used to it by now and did not even flinch. Then he told them to go and investigate, and, scowling, they obeyed.

They left with stern faces and their weapons ready in their hands, and there was a long tense wait after the darkness took them and until they appeared again in the torch-light. But when they returned, they looked relaxed.

"Rangers", they said. "We could smell it on the wind halfway there."

The wood-elves weren't afraid of rangers, but not exactly friends with them either. They set up camp on the center of the narrow plateau where they were most sheltered, laughing at the silly Men who for all their knowledge had not got the same idea.

When he had finished his dinner, Legolas filled his bowl with snow, because they had no running water, and set it aside to be washed. Then he stood up, jumped up and down to get some warmth to his toes and said: "I want to talk to the Rangers."

Tinuhen frowned. "You want what?"

"Talk to the Rangers. I've never seen rangers up close. Can I?"

"It is dark", Tinuhen said.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "I can see their fire from here. It's not like I'm going to get lost. And I'm here to learn, am I not? How am I to learn anything about the rangers if I don't..."

"Fine", Tinuhen muttered. "Go straight to them and ask - politely, mind - if you can come close, and then you will go straigth back to us, and if you do not - "

"You kill me, yeah, I get that..."

"One thing more", Tinuhen said, sharply enough that Legolas paused to listen. "The dunedain have always had strong ties to Rivendell. If they ask, Beren is the leader of our company, there is no prince among us, you are Beren's son and your name is not Legolas. Do not follow them anywhere, and not into their tents. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Then go."

There was a layer of thin ice on top of the snow, after the sun melted the topmost cover, and the evening-chill made it freeze over again. When Legolas rounded the cliff the wind caught his wide cloak and made him stumble backwards. He bowed his head against it and almost bumped into a sentinel at the edge of the ranger camp.

"Oh! Hello", he said, and the sentinel flinched and raised it's spear.

"Hey! I'm not an enemy!"

"Who are you?"

"No one you need to poke with that, anyway!"

"I can see that, now." The sentinel lowered the spear and eyed him suspiciously. "You're one of the elves. Come closer, let me look at you."

"I though you saw me", Legolas said and kept an eye on the spear. Even without this traitor in Rivendell, no one in Greenwood trusted the dunedain wholly, and he supposed there was a reason for that.

On closer look the ranger was a young man, at least as far as Legolas could tell - gangling and slender, with dark, shaggy hair that hung in thick tangles around a face that looked like it had been carelessly chiselled out of stone. He did not look very dangerous. When Legolas stood his ground, the man came closer, and as he did so his eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline.

"Why, you're just a kid! I did think you looked small for an elf. Aren't you a bit young to be travelling across the mountains, and at this time of the year?"

"I bet I'm older than you", Legolas said. He had no idea if that would be true, but the man laughed as if he hit right on spot.

"Where are you heading?"

"To Rivendell. We're from Greenwood."

"Then you've come a long way", said the man. "We are on our way to Imladris too. My name is Findel."

"Mine's Legolas", Legolas said, than hastily bit his tongue. That was just the thing he was not supposed to say! Tinuhen was going to be furious.

But Findel only smiled and said: "Ah, you must be named after the young prince, then? His name is Legolas, correct?"

"Um... well yes, it is."

"Are you as old as him?"

"Yes. Almost."

He wondered if it was because of the dark that Findel could not see the embroideries on his tunic or the fine wool of his cloak, or indeed the silver clasp that kept it together. They were plain clothes, of course, the ones Galion had picked out to make Legolas look as normal as possible, but he wouldn't have thought them plain enough to not give him away after he had stated his name. Of course, some princes would have stated their title along with their name from the beginning.

"So", Findel said, "Legolas of Greenwood, why are you gracing our humble camp with your not-princely presence?"

"What?"

"I meant", Findel said, smiling, "what are you doing here? Did you want anything in particular? The scouts your leader sent out earlier weren't very companionable, and we hardly expected to hear anything else from you for the rest of the night. Yet here you stand, companionable indeed."

"Oh. Well, mostly I just wanted to talk. I haven't met rangers before. I mean, face to face."

Findel's eyes narrowed. "Not face to face? You don't happen to be one of those elves hiding in the Greenwood trees, do you? When I was there this summer, we heard them laughing and mocking us all the way from Three Oaks to the Mountain."

"They meant no ill, I promise!"

"What a wood-elf means and what a wood-elf does are often not one and the same thing", Findel said, but then he smiled it away and added: "Come, let's not stand here so far from the fire. I think it's safe for me to leave my post a while. We mostly wanted to make sure you elves weren't planning to steal our provisions or something."

He led Legolas into the camp, where the rangers had now gathered around the fire that burnt between their four weather-worn hide tents. They were singing a song, but it was none that Legolas had ever heard and in their deep, dark voices it sounded very different from elven song. The rangers were stern and strong-looking, with their faces shadowed by deep hoods or hidden behind bushy beards, and they had rough hands and ragged clothes that smelled of sweat and horses and months on the road. But they weren't as unfriendly as they looked. They had Legolas sit down with them and laughed at how he had scared Findel when he first met him.

"I wondered why you were shouting, Findel", one of them said. "I thought you'd run into a bear or something."

"Well, I thought so too for a moment, but - "

The rangers roared with laughter.

"Sorry, kid, we're not laughing at you", they said to Legolas, "but it takes Findel's nerves to mistake an elfling for a bear."

A broad-shouldered man who was almost as tall as Legolas' father poured a small cup of mead and handed it to Legolas. It had a bitter taste, not at all like the one he was used to, but Legolas drank politely in small sips. He tried not to look at the broad-shouldered man's hands. He had only six fingers left on both of them together: two on his right hand, and four on this left.

The man noticed him struggling not to stare, but he wasn't angry. "One to a snow storm. Three to a bear."

"What?"

"That's how I lost my fingers."

"To a _bear_?" Legolas had never heard of anyone who was attacked by a bear and survived.

"The name's Hawn", said the man with a wry smile, "and I bit the bear back."

"And got a good story to tell the rest of us", one of the other rangers said. "We were just about to tell stories, actually, before you came by. I don't know about you elves, but when we are out travelling we like to share stories in the evenings. Maybe you'd like to hear one?"

"I would love to!"

"Hawn is an excellent story-teller", Findel said. "And the story of how he bit the bear is worth hearing. He..."

"Wait!" said one of the watches at the edge of camp. "Arahad's back."

Three new rangers strode into camp. They were wrapped in so many cloaks and furs they looked like real bears walking on two legs. The foremost had thick bushy eyebrows and a crooked nose, as if it had been broken more than once, and he looked very grim.

"That is our captain", said Hawn. "Chieftain, actually, of all the dunedain. Arahad, son of Araglas."

Arahad didn't look like a chieftain of anything at all, but when Legolas looked closer at him, there was just something about him - he could not put his finger to it, but he had a feeling that the man was somehow important.

Arahad looked straight back at him, with bright grey eyes, and for a moment Legolas thought he knew him.

"Is that an elf I see there?"

The moment passed. Legolas had never seen the man before.

"This is our new friend", Findel answered. "He's come to listen to some stories of ours. Hawn was just about to tell - "

"That must wait", said Arahad. His eyebrows drew together, as if he didn't like Legolas being there. "Are you elves still camped down there at the plateau?"

"Yes."

"Wood-elves, are you?"

Legolas lifted his chin a little. "We are."

"I thought so", said Arahad. "That is not a good place to camp, and had you been more used to mountains you would have known it. The snow up on that slope is unstable. An avalanche will sweep right over your camp. You should move to someplace safer."

Legolas frowned. "My brother said the weather isn't right for snowslides. The slope is on the leeside or something."

"Leeside slopes gather more snow", said Arahad. "What wind there is may set it in snow may seem stabile, but it isn't. There is a layer of hoar frost under it."

Legolas eyed him uncertainly, Findel with awe.

"I don't think they'll want to move", Legolas said.

"They should, for their own safety. Maybe I should go an talk to them? For I could not stand to see you hurt or killed when I could have prevented it. Especially not one as young as you."

When he said that last thing, his features softened as if behind his sterness he was truly worried. Legolas thought over it. Tinuhen rarely listened to anything he had to say, but would be rather listen to a man, and a dirty and smelly one that may be a traitor at that? Perhaps moving the camp would sound more rational if it came from an elf, even if that elf was Legolas.

"I'll go", he said.

"That's a good lad. Come back later and Hawn can tell you that story."

When he came back to the elven camp, they had finished eating, and sat around the fire with their hands cupped around steaming mugs of birch leaf tea. Maidh greeted him at the edge of the camp.

"Just making sure the rangers don't steal our provisions", he said. "You never know with men."

Tinuhen and Beren sat across the fire. Legolas tried to look rational and mature when he approached.

"Tinuhen", he said, "I've spoken to the rangers, and they're not at all bad. Their leader had been higher up the peak scouting and-"

"Not interested", Tinuhen said. "I have more important..."

"No, this is important!" Legolas said. "Arahad says that we should move our camp, because the snow is on the leeside so there may be an avalanche and then it will sweep right over us..."

"Young one", Tinuhen said patiently, "we have already thought about snowslides, and this is not the right..."

"It was something about hoar frost", Legolas said, but now he could not remember how Arahad had worded it and it suddenly sounded very unlikely. "That, and the wind... it wouldn't hurt to move just a little would it?"

"Listen, Legolas..." Beren reached for his shoulder and patted it. "I'm sure the rangers know a lot of the mountains, but it is a very big affair, and possibly a risky one too, too move a camp at night. It is too dark to be certain we find a safe place to camp."

"Then move to the rangers."

"We will not move to the rangers."

"But..."

"Enough", Tinuhen said. "You have let them talk you into things. I was afraid of that. Come and sit here. There are a few things I wanted to talk to you about."

"But I promised to go back..."

"It is too late, you must go to sleep soon."

"And hear a story..."

"What makes you think the rangers have better stories than us?" Tinuhen asked. "We have already told stories, while you were over there with those barbarians. Now sit down, there are things I need to discuss with you."

Legolas bit his lip. He should have known it would end like this, and now Tinuhen would never listen to Arahad either.

"Are you not going to sit down?" Tinuhen asked. "Fine, then you may stand. Tomorrow, as you know, we will arrive in Imladris, and meet lord Elrond. You will be wearing your finery and Beren will braid your hair. I don't want to see it dirty or torn..."

"I'm not a baby!" Legolas snapped. He shouldn't have, but he was so tired of Tinuhen constantly nagging at him, and maybe he was also slightly tired of himself for giving him reasons to. "Do you really think I'm going to, what, run off and climb a tree in those clothes? Because I wasn't going to!"

"Well... of course you weren't", Tinuhen said, taken aback. "Of course not, Legolas. I was just... That is good, then. You also need to know how to greet lord Elrond properly. He is not a king, as father, you know, but a lord, but he also bows to no one. When we arrive, he will come and meet us outside and I will say the important things, and I want you to keep quiet and look polite. When I present you, you must say that you are pleased to come to Rivendell and hope to be learning much from the wise noldor there."

"And if I don't hope that?"

"Then you will say it anyway", Tinuhen said. "You are here and you will do what you are told. I did not bring you through that forest for no reason. If I could have just left you at home I would have done that."

"I wouldn't have minded", Legolas said.

Tinuhen's eyes narrowed. "What's the matter with you? Is anything wrong?"

"You are", Legolas said, balling his fists. "I'm going to the rangers. At least they don't hate me."

"I don't - come back here, you little idiot!"

Legolas walked away, heart pounding, but Tinuhen did not follow. Snow whirled from the mountain peak, the wind threw itself upon him when he rounded the rock. He tried to think of Hawn's tale about the bear, but somehow it did not seem as interesting as before.

Findel waited outside the camp, and this time Legolas called out to not startle him.

"Will they move?"

"No. They said it would be dangerous because it's dark."

"Ah, well, they are right", said Findel and threw a glance towards the mountain peak. "Let's hope it will be fine, then. Come along. Hawn was really eager to..."

He fell silent, still looking to the mountain peak.

In the white up there was a dark crack, a gap that went wider and wider; behind the falling snow the grey stone was visible.

Without thinking Legolas turned; he must get back to the elven camp, he must warn -

"No!" Findel cried and caught him around the waist. "Stay here! Avalanche! _AVALANCHE!_"

* * *

So sorry for the cliff-hanger, guys! ^^'

Also for the lack of updates last week - I had some issues with this chapter that needed to be solved. Next week will update as usual!

Thank you for reading and please review!


	9. Chapter 9

**IX**

**A council of war**

Legolas kicked and twisted. He howled like a wounded animal, but Findel was too strong.

"Avalanche! _Avalanche!_" he kept screaming, and down at the elven camp, people started to shout.

A cloud of powder snow swept the mountain peak in white. There was a sharp, whistling sound, and the whistle became a rumble, and the rumble grew to a roar. The ground trembled. Findel lost his balance - Legolas got loose and ran and -

Hawn caught him and lifted him off the ground.

"My brother's down there! Tinu - "

"You cannot - "

The roar drowned their voices. Hawn struggled against a flood of snow; he was swept off his feet and Legolas fell under him. Snow thundered over him and there was a moment - or maybe it lasted an hour - when everything was white and loud and Legolas knew nothing else than Hawn's weight on his chest and shards of icy snow biting into his skin. He lay still and tried to breath.

Then it became quiet. The snow came to whooshing, tumbling stop.

Legolas groaned, blinked, and tried to move his arm. The snow fell off him. It was not deep, and he was not buried - when Hawn cautiously sat up, Legolas could sit up as well.

"You all right?" Hawn asked, somewhat shaken.

"Yes." Legolas was shaken too, and his head rang, and snow melted down the inside of his tunic. The powder snow slowly settled down, though it was still all white around them.

"Findel, where are you?"

"Over here!"

"How are you down there?" a ranger called from the camp. "Hawn? Findel?"

"Here, and all right!"

Hawn lifted Legolas onto his feet as if he was not any heavier than a sack of hay, then looked around for his fur hat, which lay half buried under the snow. Legolas drew a trembling breath.

"My brother", he said. "My brother, is he - "

"Don't worry", Hawn said and squinted to see through the whirling snow. "He will be... ah,_ elbereth_."

"What?"

Hawn walked towards the plateau. Legolas half-ran behind him. He didn't understand; he couldn't see anything through the cloud of...

No, not a cloud.

It wasn't the flurries of powder snow in the air that blocked their view. It was a wall - a white wall of tightly packed snow that blocked off the whole plateau, looming higher than the trees of Greenwood. The avalanche had passed the rangers, but the cliffs sheltering the plateau was tall enough enough for all the snow to gather below them and fill the space between them and the slope completely.

Legolas ran up to the wall of snow. There was no way he could see through. He tried to climb, but even for him it was too treacherous - his hands slid through loose powder snow, lumps of ice came loose and rolled away under his feet.

He fell back on the ground, his breathing loud and shallow.

He tried again.

"It's no use", Hawn said.

The snow wall was almost as tall as the sides of the cliffs, and the stone was straight and smooth. Legolas followed it up and down, looking for somewhere to climb.

"Little one", Hawn said. "It's no use."

"My brother's there!"

Hawn caught his arm and forced him to stop. "Legolas, we don't know how stabile the snow is - or if there'll be another avalanche. We have to leave. You cannot climb over."

"Then what?"

Hawn shook his head.

Only then did Legolas become aware of how much his hands were trembling. He could not make them stop.

"It's too dark to see anything", Hawn said. "You'll stay with us tonight, and tomorrow we'll see."

"What if they're under the snow? What if they're all under the snow?"

Hawn closed his eyes for a moment. "It's too much to dig through. We would only risk our own lives."

Legolas swayed, like a candle flickering in too strong a breeze.

"Elves are quick", Hawn said. "They must have heard Findel's warnings. They had time to move, they did. I'm sure of it."

"But if I can't get back to them and they... and they can't get over to us..."

"Tomorrow", Hawn said again. "We must go now."

"That snow won't melt until spring."

Hawn looked at him as if he knew exactly how it felt. He bent down so their eyes were almost at level. "There are many ways over the Misty Mountains. They will be able to cross, sooner or later."

"If they live."

"They do. They'll live. I promise."

He took Legolas hand and led him back to the ranger's camp.

* * *

The black sword hilt lay on the table between them, like a dead rat the cat has brought inside and that no one wants to touch. Only the fox seemed not to care. She had curled up on the floor by Merilin's feet, and sometimes she broke the silence with a long sleepy yawn.

"Soo", Brand said, "it looks awfully elvish, that thing."

"So it does", said mother. "And it may well be at that, for I believe it is very old. Second Age at the least."

"Yet it was an orc who wielded it?"

Mother bowed her head yes.

"Then why - I mean, how - it was poisoned, then?"

Duneirien stifled an impatient sigh. She did not give much for long meetings. As the Hunt's Master she organized the hunters of the Mountain, but it had become more than that as the hunters reported what they heard and saw to her, and she in her turn reported to Beren. The hunters were the closest thing to scouts that Greenwood had at the moment. But Duneirien was not a warrior and definitely not a strategist, and had no patience for councils of war.

It was late; the sun had long since dragged her pale disc down below the tree-tops outside the council chamber, and they had already finished one and a half bottle of wine. Duneirien had tilted her chair back on its rear legs, mother was pacing by the fire, and Radagast seemed more interested in feeding a mouse in his pocket with nuts - though Merilin thought he listened. Few things passed the Brown Wizard unnoticed.

"No", mother said, "it cannot have been poison. It was far more powerful." She paused to search for words. "There was magic. There must have been - not only about the sword, but the whole scenario, the trees, the darkness. There was an evil force at work there, and I have felt it before."

"You mean..." Duneirien hesitated. "You mean - a remnant of the Black Land, that's what you think it is?"

Mother bowed her head again. "Yes, that is what I think. In fact, it cannot have been anything else."

There was a tense silence, and Merilin could hear her own heart pound. She glanced at father's empty chair. Everything was so wrong. She was frightened, and at the same time she could not believe that anything was true.

"What sort of a 'remnant' would it be, then?" Brand asked. "A piece of evil that has drifted on the wind to our lands?"

Mother frowned at his ill-hidden scepticism. "No, youngling, but a Man, or something like a Man, that survived the great war and is hiding in the Old Fortress. Just like the King has been saying for many a year, the Shadow is true evil, and there's a mind behind it. The darkness and the silence - it was a part of the Shadow."

Radagast looked up from his hungry mouse. "Tell me again about the sword, Gwiwileth, and how it vanished."

"Well", mother said. "It went very fast. After the orcs surrounded the King, I managed to get close enough to haul him over to my horse, and we fled. The orcs did not pursue, we were gaining the upper hand anyway, so soon after we could stop and get the King down on the ground. He was weak and feverish already then... mumbling and unable to see us. We found no severe wounds, but one in his side that felt freezing cold to the touch. One of the warriors said he had seen something, a weapon that had seemed out of place, so we went back to the place of the battle, and found that sword among others." She paused, and eyed the sword hilt as if she half expected it to speak up and tell the rest of the story. " I knew immediately as I saw it, it must be what he had seen. So I picked it up, and it - well, it was colder than anything I had ever felt. And then it simply drifted from my hands, like smoke. All but the hilt."

Silence fell again, and all their gazes turned to the hilt. The candle-light was reflected in the gem on the pommel, but it had lost its warmth and homeliness.

"Gwiwileth", Radagast said, "what do you know of the man that Thranduil believes hides in Dol Guldur?"

"Not much", mother replied. "Thranduil spoke very little of it. He used to say that he knew its presence, and that it should never have been allowed to survive. But by Yavanna's grace, I have seen such wounds as Thranduil's, and not in this Age."

The fox stirred uneasily, and Merilin looked up at her mother. "You mean..."

"The Enemy", mother said, and then, uncertainly, as if they would think she had gone mad: "Sauron."

They all fell silent. The sword hilt glared at them, laughed at their fear. Merilin could almost hear it whisper.

"However", mother said, "it is much too early to come to any conclusions. The only thing we can do is be ever cautious - and hope that Laeros will be able to tell us something."

Brand looked up, eager to change the subject. "What about the orc then? The orc that held the sword. What was he? A leader?"

"I believe he was", mother said, both reluctant and relieved to discuss more ordinary things. "He was large, unusually so, and his eyes - I remember his eyes, yellow and gleaming like those of an adder. There was intelligence in them, of that I'm certain. The orcs were all very well prepared and disciplined."

"Disciplined?" Duneirien echoed.

"Yes, disciplined. And the adder-eyed one, their leader - he took Thranduil's crown." Mother stopped by the fire, her jaw set in icy fury. "I did not realize it until later, because there was so much else going on, but he took it. And I believe it was planned. Taking the crown of Doriath - it was a challenge. A declaration, you might say, of war."

"War", Brand growled, and was quiet for a moment. "Well, if they want it, they can have it. Curse them all!"

"Cursing won't take you anywhere", said Duneirien. "Better kill them."

"I would, if my Queen allowed me to ride out and do it!"

Mother smiled sternly and clasped her hands behind her back. "Worry not, Brand, you will see your share of orc-slaying before you're even half as old as I am. The orcs must indeed be killed, but they have retreated - Duneirien, as your hunters has told me, they are no longer near the Mountain?"

"No, my Queen", Duneirien said. "They have retreated south-east, but we lost all trace of them two miles north of the Forest Road. As I've told you..."

"The Shadow, yes. The Shadow has come over the Forest Road. It is now threatening the elves living there."

"Impossible!" Brand said. "The Elvenking has always kept it at bay!"

"The Elvenking is no longer able." Mother sat down in the chair beside father's, and for a moment she looked afraid. "We cannot know how far the Shadow will come before Thranduil awakens, or if he will be able to push it back once he does. Perhaps the new border will be closer yet to the Mountain. We must be ready to defend ourselves or move. I would wish the old warriors would take up their weapons again."

"They are weary of war, my Queen", said Radagast.

"And so they will let our young ones stand alone? But we do not want war. We will flee rather than..."

"My lady", Duneirien said, "forgive me for saying so, but there are many who would rather fight than flee."

Mother glanced up at her. "And how many of them has fought before? And I mean in a battle, not some border skirmish with orcs or bandits."

"None, but..."

"Let me make one thing clear", mother said. "When I and the Elvenking were attacked, none of the guards were prepared. Few did well in the battle. We won on numbers alone. And now, Brand, how many are now boasting about how they slew orcs to the left and right, or how they long for the next battle?"

Brand shook his head. "We lost three elves, and some were wounded for life. None is boasting. They are quiet and mourning, like ghosts."

Mother looked first at Duneirien, than at the rest of her sorry little war council.

"There you have the state of the Greenwood army", she said. "And there you have the legacy of war. There is no way we can stand and fight without losing many elves - friends, comrades, loved ones. We lost too many outside the Black Lands. The warriors from the Second Age knows loss and sorrow by heart. Would you like to know it too, Duneirien? If we go to war, you will."

Duneirien was so pale Merilin thought she might faint.

"I know it already", she said, her voice so soft it was barely audible. "Tuiw... the scouts that were sent to the south."

Merilin bent down and picked the fox up, pressed it hard to her chest. The silence was so heavy she could barely breath, and all the time the sword hilt whispered.

Finally mother spoke again, this time very softly. "The elves by the Forest Road are in great danger. They may have survived on the grey border, but to the true shadow-wood we cannot leave them. Nor will it be safe for them to move, with the orcs nearby. We must ride down there and bring them to the Mountain."

"We have tried to move those elves many times, my queen", Brand said. "It won't be done. They refuse to leave their homes."

"It is more urgent now. And may not be forever, only until Thranduil is awake and the border stabile; perhaps when they know that, they will agree to move." The others looked dubious, and she went on: "There is more. Radagast, you told me the elves of the shadow-wood hold the Elven King and Queen in high regard."

Radagast nodded. "Those I passed on the way here were honoured to have had prince Tinuhen as their guest. They wanted to show him what the Shadow had done, even try to coerce him that it must be fought and not fled from. Even more, they were impressed with young Legolas, who is, as you know, more of a wood-elf than Tinuhen will ever be."

"It seems they think the Royal Family is wiser, more capable than other elves", mother said. "Or at least that we understand Greenwood the way they do. Perhaps one of us - "

Brand rose so quickly his chair clattered to the floor behind him. "My Queen, you cannot!"

"Absolutely not!" said Duneirien. "We need you - "

"More than ever - "

"You're the only one - "

"You're the Queen - "

"Peace", mother said with a smile. "I did not intend to go. Wish as I may, I cannot, for while my husband is wounded I must be in charge of the Mountain, and we need a strong defence now." Then she looked at Merilin, and tried to say something with her eyes. Merilin begun to shake her head no, but mother would not have it.

"In my stead", she said, "Merilin must go. She is much like me, and much like Legolas; the elves of the shadow-wood will listen to her."

"Mother", Merilin said, but found she could not say anything more. All the other elves had to be brave. If they could - if Nelladell could, and Taith, and sweet little Legolas - then so could she.

Mother looked at her and slowly, incredulously, Merilin raised her chin.

"You will ride into the shadow-wood", mother said, "and bring the elves there to the Mountain. Duneirien and Brand, you will take her there. You will succeed; you have to. It is their only chance."

* * *

Early on the morrow, the rangers broke camp.

Legolas sat by the burnt-out fire and watched them take down their tents and saddle their horses. He had been too restless too sleep, and now he was too tired to think. He tried to imagine how it would be if all the other elves were dead and he would have to ride back to Greenwood alone. Hethulin and Beren, and Amlûg... and Tinuhen of course. Maybe Tinuhen was angry with him for not trying harder to make them move.

I should have tried harder, he thought. I truly should have.

Arahad had sent a some men to examine the avalanche, but they had found no way over, and heard nothing from the elves. Hawn still claimed it would be all right, but Legolas could tell they feared the worst.

When it was time to leave, Findel brought him a horse - a sturdy one with a thick brown winter coat criss-crossed with narrow scars.

"Marigold is a bit old for riding", he said. "Her back is not very good, so we keep her as a pack horse, but you are not as heavy as a grown man."

"Marigold?"

"Aye. Arahad rode her when she was young. She's a war-maiden, the best you could ever have."

Marigold leaned down so Legolas reached to scratch her behind the ears. She was bigger than Amlûg and stronger-looking, though she was not very pretty, and her eyes were dark and gentle. When he ran her fingers through her mane, for the first time since the avalanche, Legolas felt a tiny spark of hope.

That day they rode over the highest point of the High Pass, under strong winds and a clear sky. The track led them up and up over rocks and ridges, sometimes with breathtaking falls to their right, sometimes with cliffs looming overhead almost creating a cave. Marigold found her footing as easily as an elf on a tree-branch. If Legolas tried to guide her, she ignored it and walked as she found best.

They came around a sharp turn and saw two horses and riders ahead of them. It was afternoon and the newcomers had the sun at their backs, but even at a distance Legolas could tell they were warriors, straight and alert. When they came closer he saw that they were elves, and strangely they looked exactly the same.

Dark-haired and wild-eyed, with swords over their shoulders and quivers strapped to their saddles, the elves watched the rangers without even a hint of a smile. Their hair was made similarly in tight warrior's braids, and they wore the same old, notched armour.

"Elladan!" Arahad said. "Elrohir. Well met."

The elves bowed their heads but said nothing. They turned their horses around and beckoned at the rangers to follow. The rangers did so.

"Who are they?" Legolas whispered.

"Lord Elrond's sons", said Findel. "Elladan and Elrohir. Don't bother to try to tell them apart. I cannot."

"Why are they so quiet?"

"Do you know about lady Celebrían?" Findel said. "The twins were crazed with their mother's death, and now they can think of nothing but vengeance. They're not wicked, but it's best to leave them alone."

Legolas rose in his stirrups and tried to catch a glimpse of the elven twins, but too many rangers were in the way. Marigold shook her head irritably as if to tell him to sit still, so he did.

"Don't you know the way to Rivendell yourselves?"

"We do, but the elves often send someone out to meet visitors. As a courtesy."

The track went up again, and though the mountainpeak was still to their left, rising further than anyone could see, ahead of them was only the sky. Higher and higher they rode until finally they could see the ground sloping down before them - and down and down and down.

They stopped on the ridge. The wind tore at their cloaks and the air felt somehow thinner than usual. Behind them in the blue distance lay the East - the grasslands of the Vale of Anduin, the vast and wild Greenwood the Great, Lake-town, Dale, Erebor.

Ahead of them - ahead of them was the West. Snowy rolling lowlands, little woods and rivers, fenced fields and winding roads - and somewhere behind it all was the Sea.

Legolas drew a deep breath. Somehow he knew that though every step of the journey had taken him away from home, this was the greatest step of all. The East would always be the East; the Wild would always be the Wild. Now he crossed the border to everything he had ever known.

And he did it all on his own.

Somehow that strengthened him. He had no way to go but forward, so there was no reason to think about what was behind him. Legolas looked over his shoulder once and then no more.

He knew, somehow, though he did not know how, that the Legolas who had left Greenwood early in November would never return to it - not quite.

* * *

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